LIBRARY BV 4900 .S55 1852 Smyth, Thomas, 1808-1873. Solace for bereaved parents The John HI. Krebs Donation. =»=5»^ /^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS INFANTS DIE TO LIVE WITH AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OK THE DOCTRINE OF INFANT SALVATION, VERY FULL SELECTIONS FROM VARIOUS AUTHORS, PROSE AND POETRY. / BY TKE REV. THOMAS SMYTH, D.D. The dead, The only beautiful, who change no more ; The only blest ; the dwellers on the shore Of Spring fulfilled. The dead I— whom call we so? They that breathe purer air, that feel, that know, Things wrapt from us. HEMANS. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET, AND PITTSBURG, 56 MARKET STREET. 1852. Entered, accordins^ to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, BY ROBERT CARTER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED TO MY DEAR AUNT, MRS. M. M. MAGEE, OF DUBLIN, IRELAND, AS A TRIBUTE OF GRATEFUL AFFECTION ; AND ALSO AS AN EXPRESSION OF HIGH ADMIRATION FOR THAT CHRISTIAN HOPE AND PATIENCE WHICH, BY DIVINE GRACE, SHE HAS SO TRIUMPHANTLY DISPLAYED UNDER MANIFOLD TRIALS, AND WHICH STILL ENABLE HER TO GO ON HER WAY REJOICING, IN THE GLORIOUS ANTICIPATION OF A HAPPY REUNIOxN IN THAT BLESSED WORLD WHERE DEATH SHALL BE SWALLOWED UP IN EVERLASTING LIFE, AND ITS CURSE, AND ITS SORROW BE FOR EVER DONE AWAY. VI PREFACE. Christian brethren of other denominations, that in holding Calvinistic doctrines, we do not hold their views of what these doctrines teach, nor those awful consequences which, in their conception of them, these doc- trines imply. I hope, therefore, that this exhibition of the real nature and tendency of Calvinism will serve to put down misrepresentations ; to remove prejudices ; and to draw nearer together, in the bonds of charity and good-will, all who love the Lord Jesus Christ — "both THEIRS AND ouRs" — in sincerity and truth, and who trust in the word of God only, in the grace of Christ only, and in the sanctifying influences of the Holy Ghost only. The Trinity of the one immutable Godhead, as the source of salvation, of grace, and of power — the author, finisher, and imparter of eternal life — this is the grand platform on which all true Christians can meet, sympathize, hope, rejoice, and triumph. May we all " stand fast" in this faith, and " keep the unity of the Spirit in the bonds of" a more open, more visible, and more ccnsoHdating " peace." Not with mistrusting heart, or anxious brow. My little book, I send thee forth again — So thou the suffrage of the good obtain, I seek not what the worldling can bestow, Of perishable praise — enough to know That at the lonely couch of grief or pain, Thy simple page one passing smile may gain, Or kindle in the breast devotion's glow. Yet, shouldst thou find a place in blissful bower, 'Midst happy hearts, unthinking of their doom, In the fond trust of that delusive hour, O whisper to them of the coming gloom , And tell them of the faith whose mighty power Can light the dreary precincts of the tomb. THE AUTHOR Charleston, Dec. 1845. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Address to a Bereaved Parent 9 CHAPTER II. An Historical Account of the Doctrine of Infant Salvation, wherein it is shown that it was first advocated and received by Calvinists, and based upon Calvinistic Doctrines, including quotations from, or references to, the following Calvinistic writers, — Zuinglius, Cal- vin, Tyndale, (and other reformers or successors of,) Perkins, Cot- ton Mather, Harris, Toplady, Dr. Williams, Scott, Newton, Dr. Gill, Pictet, Whitefield, Watts, Addington, Robert Hall, Howe, Dr. Lawson, the Lime St. Lectures, the National Covenant, the Con- fession of Faith, Dr. Jarkin, Dr. Cumming, Dr. Russell, &c. . 13 CHAPTER III. The necessity for discussing the Doctrine of the Salvation of Infants 47 CHAPTER IV. Children are taken away in Infancy in Mercy to them ... 59 CHAPTER V. Children are taken away m Infancy for the Benefit of the Living . 99 CHAPTER VI. Selections in Prose confirmatory and illustrative of the preceding Views from Charlotte Elizabeth, Rev. H. Mowes, Evangelical Magazine, Dr. Watts, Dr. Doddridge, Dr. Mason, Robert Hall, Erskine, Flavel, Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Henry, Ramanoojooloo, &c. . 132 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAOB Shorter Selections in Prose, adapted to be read at short intervals, from Oliver llcywood, Scott, Fenelon, and miiny Authors, with some very interesting and striking anecdotes illustrative of the tri- umph of Christian t'\'\ith under such bereavements . . . 165 CHAPTER VIII. Selections in Poctjv 205 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. CHAPTER I. ADDRESS TO A BEREAVED PARENT Bid gentle patience smile on pain Till dying hope revive again ; Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye, And faith points upward to the sky. Steele. My Dear Reader, This work is addressed to you as a bereaved Parent. God has given you a child whom you dearly loved, and God has taken that child away. He has " strickened the desire of your eyes," and " wounded you sore." Like Rachel you weep for your departed 3hild, and " refuse to be comforted because it is not." Your grief, my dear friend, is natural, for your afflic- tion is great. Your heart is left lonely and desolate. Its strings are broken. That joy which had swallowed up all remembrance of the hours of solicitude and paiu^ is now turned into melancholy sadness. That current of affection and gladness which had flowed out upon the object of your regard is turned back upon the soul — its channels are dried up, and its fountain gone. The grief of a bereaved parent can only be known by those who have endured it. Of this it may be truly said, " the heart knoweth its own bitterness and a stranger intermeddleth not with it." There are aus- ceptibilities in man which are only developed by aa 10 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. entrance upon tlie relation of parent. The individual who has never become a Father or a Mother, has never felt the most powerful of human emotions. He is a stranger to that joy which seems to fill the heart to overflowing ; and to that outgoing of the soul which identifies the parent with his child, absorbs all selfish regards, and inspires a willingness to endure all things for the sake of his beloved offspring. Who then can truly sympathize with parents in their joys or sorrows, but he who has been himself a parent? An old writer has quaintly remarked, — as il- lustrative of the adaptation of Christ, by the endurance of human misery, for his present office of Mediator be- tween God and man, — that were his hmb broken he should desire to have it set by a physician who had himself experienced a similar calamity. Sure it is that the wounded heart of a bereaved parent can only be bound up by one whose own heart has been in like manner torn, and who can sincerely weep with him who weeps over the grave of his buried offspring. Young mother ! what can feeble friendship say. To soothe the anguish of this mournful day ? They, they alone, whose hearts like thine have bled, Know how the living sorrow for the dead ; Each tutored voice, that seeks such grief to cheer, Strikes cold upon the weeping parent's ear ; I 've felt it all, — alas ! too well I know How vain all earthly power to hush thy woe ! God cheer thee, childless mother ! 't is not given For man to ward the blow that falls from heaven. I 've felt it all — as thou art feeling now ; Like thee, with stricken heart and aching brow, I 've sat and watched by dying beauty's bed, And burning tears of hopeless anguish shed ; I 've gazed upon the sweet, but pallid face, .. And vainly tried some comfort there to trace ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 11 I 've listened to the short and struggling breath ; I 've seen the cherub eye grow dim in death ; Like thee, I 've veiled my head in speechless gloom, And laid my first-born in the silent tomb. It is on this account I would venture to intrude my thoughts upon your present solitude, and whisper words of consolation to that ear which can never more hear the infant voice now silent in death. Like you, my friend, I have been called to witness the unexpect- ed departure of my children. Two of them I commit- ted to the same grave, where they sleep the sleep of death. They were growing up together like two young flowers, which had intertwined their tendrils, and mingled their sweet fragrance, but which were suddenly withered by the same rude blast. Like them, these children were lovely in their lives, and in death they were not divided. The same storm over- whelmed them both. They lie, as it were, arm in arm, and side by side, in the same deep and narrow bed of earth, until they awake in the morning of the resur- rection. Nor do they lie alone, their narrow bed has been uncovered to receive another sleeper, the victim of a similar malady, whose sun of brightest promise went down while my heart was still rejoicing in the beauty of its day-spring. It was when tossed upon that sea of trouble in which these sudden visitations involved me, I was led to the full investigation of the question of the salvation of infants. That examination more than confirmed my hopes. It strengthened them into a comforta- ble ASSURANCE THAT IN THE DEATH OF INFANTS, IT IS WELL WITH THEM, AND WELL WITH THEIR PARENTS — that God's purposes are merciful to both — and that while he glorifies himself in the exaltation of the children to heaven, he would also secure by such 12 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. afflictions the sanctification and the salvation of their parents. You will, therefore^ allow me to present to your mind, in substance, some of those considerations by which I have been myself comforted of God, and through which you may also, by His blessing, obtain " beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness," and en- able you to believe that the tide of death, whose rece- ding waves withdrew the desire of your eyes for ever from your sight, " like waifs flung for a season upon the shores of this world," has only borne them back again upon ^' the eternal sea which washes the throne of God." Of one thing be very sure : " God does nothing with- out a reason. That reason may have respect to you — it may have respect to your child, and not unlikely to both. He sees effects in their causes. Your case may have been this : you may have been in danger of lov- ing the world too much, and he removed the cause in time. Its case may have been this : it may have been in danger from the growth of a corrupt nature, and he took it in the bud of being that it might grow without imperfection, ' for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' Think of your child then not as dead but as Hving, not as a flower that is withered, but as one that is transplanted, and, touched by a divine hand, is bloom- ing in richer colours and sweeter shades than those of earth, though to your eyes these last may have been beautiful, more beautiful than you will hope to see again. " * With patient mind thy course of duty run, God nothing does, nor suffers to be done, But thou wouldst do thyself, if thou couldst see The end of all he does as well as he.' " CHAPTER II. WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT IT WAS FIRST ADVOCATED AND RECEIVED BY CALVINISTS, AND BASED UPON CALVINISTIC DOC- TRINES. I stood beside a death-bed scene, a mother bent and wept, But deep within her breaking heart, a deathless faith she kept : She gazed upon her little one, so beautiful and still. And humbly tried to yield him up unto her Maker's will : She bent and kissed his pallid brow, she joined her hands in prayer. And then I knew the Christian's hope had surely entered there. When I was led to the investigation of this subject, nothing surprised me more than the difficulty with which I could then* find any thing adapted to my in- quiries. Witli very ample resources, I could discover but little in the form of direct discussion, on this most interesting subject. It is certainly strange, that while works of consolation and advice had been prepared for almost every other class of mourners in Zion, bereaved parents were left to comfort themselves by those gen- eral considerations only, which leave their peculiar sor- rows unalleviated. With very diligent search I have procured an Essay on this subject by the Rev. Daniel Gillard, pub- lished in London in 1787 ; a similar Essay, entitled Grounds of Hope for the Salvation of all dying in In- fancy, by the Rev. William Harris, LL.D., pub- lished in London in 1821 ; An Essay on the Salvation • Since then many things in prose and poetry have been written. 2 14 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. of all dying in Infancy, by the Rev. David Russell of Dundee, published in Edinburgh in 1823 ;* a little volume addressed to Bereaved Parents, by John Thornton, published in London in 1831 ; a Sermon, by the late Dr. Henry ; and two others, on the death of their children, by Dr. Doddridge, and Dr. Cotton Mather. Besides these, I found only some scattered hints in various volumes.t From an examination of all these, T matured that opinion I have embodied in the following chapters, the substance of which was delivered in discourses to my people. Their earnest wishes induced me to pre- pare them for the press. Some work of the kind is imperatively demanded. Almost all parents are called to endure the loss of children, and to feel the need of such a comforter. Within a few months, I have com- mitted to the grave thirteen children, from within the bounds of my official ministration. Now there is no work to which such parents can have access, for of all those enumerated above, I may say, they are printed in England ; they are rare, and therefore inaccessible. Besides, even when parents may have a general per- suasion of the safety of departed infants, yet, when such a belief is not founded on a firm and clearly es- tablished conviction of its truth, it will give way be- fore the flood of sorrow, and fail to support in the hour of need. Just as men sport with death till called themselves to grapple with its terrors, so may men think lightly of the trial of a bereaved parent, until they stand by the bedside of their own dying child. * This is a most full and satisfactory work, and fully answers every objection. t The only other treatise on this subject then known to the author, besides one by Mosheim, a Lutheran, is by Dr. Williams. I believe the same who advocated the cause of Modern Calvinism) and answer- ed Whitby. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 16 But then will they earnestly look for any hght which may irradiate their darkness, calm their fears, and as- suage their grief A writer in an English magazine, speakmg of the death of very young children, thus beautifully remarks : — " The soul of the cherub child, that dies on its mother's breast, wings its way to heav- en, unconscious of the joys it might share here, as well as of the many, many miseries of which it might be partaker. This can hardly be called death. It is but the calm, soft ebbing of the gentle tide of life, to flow no more in the troubled ocean of existence : it is but the removal of a fair creature — ' too pure for earthly stay' — to make one of that bright band of cherubim which encompasses in glory and in joy the throne of the living God." I But glorious as the change may be to the little one, it is hard for the mother to part thus early with her fair-haired innocent — to break off all the delightful ties of prattling tenderness that had bound her even in a few months, to that gentle form forever — ? 'Tis hard to lay her darling Deep in the cold, damp earth — His empty crib to see. His silent nursery, Once gladsome with his mirth. To meet again in slumber His small mouth's rosy kiss ; Then, wakened with a start By her own throbbing heart, His twining arms to miss ! To feel (half conscious why) A dull, heart-sinking weight, Till mem'ry on her soul Flashes the painful whole, That she is desolate ! 16 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. And llien to lie and weep, And think the live-long night (Feeding her own distress With accurate greediness) Of every past delight ; — Of all his winning ways. His pretty playful smiles, His joy, his ecstacy, His tricks, his mimicry, And all his little wiles ! Oh ! these are recollections Round mothers' hearts that cling — That mingle with the tears And smiles of after years. With oft awakening ! That this little volume therefore may be rendered as satisfactory as possible, it will be proper to give some historical accomit of the views entertained at different periods of the church on the subject of the salvation of infants. This will show the necessity for its present and thorough investigation ; and at the same time ex- pose the groundlessness with which a belief in the fu- ture loss or damnation of infants has been charged upon Calvinists, and upon Presbyterians, as a doctrine peculiar to them, or involved in their system of belief. Among the Jews, the hope of salvation seems to have been confined to themselves, and to their children who had received circumcision. " They imagined that the law of Moses made the very infants of the Gentiles be treated as sinners and hateful to God, because they were uncircumcised, and descended from uncircumci- sed parents. They of course imagined that all their own children were saved, and that all those of the Gentiles perished. It is partly on this account that the apostle, after mentioning the universal reign of SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 17 death from Adam to Moses, distinctly adds, that it came upon infants, as well as upon adults, without dis- tinction of Jew and Gentile ; and then shows that in- fants, whether they descend from Gentiles or Jews, are treated as sinners, not by virtue of the law of Moses, but in consequence of the sin of Adam, the common father of the human race." A corresponding faith was early developed in the Christian Church. Erroneous views of baptism, as in itself communicative of regeneration, led to the belief of its absolute necessity in order to salvation. Of course, those who failed to enjoy the benefits of this or- dinance were believed to be excluded from all participa- tion in the benefits of that gospel, with which it was so essentially connected. And hence it was supposed that the children even of christian parents who were not baptized, as well as all others in the same unfortunate condition, were cast, with unbelievers, into hell for ever ; or, at least, excluded from the divine presence, and the blessedness of heaven. This opinion prevailed generally in the Church un- til after the Reformation. It was the opinion of Au- gustine, of Gregory, Ariminiensis, Driedd, Luther, Me- lanchthon, Tilmanus, Heshusius, " who have all fallen into the worst of St. Austin's opinion, and sentence poor infants to the flames of hell for original sin, if they die before baptism."* •' The Catholic faith," says Augustine, " resting on divine authority, believes the first place to be the kingdom of heaven, whence THE UNBAPTizED ARE EXCLUDED ; and the sccoud Hell, where every apostate and alien from the faith of Christ will experience eternal punishments. A third place we are wholly ignorant of, nor shall we find it in * See Jer. Taylor'^ Works, vol. 9. p. Iii9. 9* 18 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. . the Scriptures."* The decree of the Council of Trent, by which it is determined that " whosoever shall affirm that baptism is indifferent, that is, not necessary to SALVATION, let him be accursed," is still binding on the Roman Catholic Church : for their catechism also teaches that children, "be their parents christians or infidels, unless regenerated by the grace op BAPTISM, ARE BORN TO ETERNAL MISERY AND EV- ERLASTING DESTRucTioN."t " Nothing," says the Council of Trent, " can be apparently more necessary, than that the faithful should be taught, that the law of baptism was ordained by the Lord for all men ; so that unless they he regenerated hy God, through the grace of baptism, they are begotten by their parents, be they believers, or unbelievers, to everlasting mise- ry and perditionyX " No other means of salvation,^' adds the Catechism, " is supplied to infants, except baptism, be administered to them^Ph " There is a third place for infants," says Bellarmine, " who die without baptism. This Limbus Puerorum is for the eternal punishment of loss only :" that is, " the loss of the presence of God."|I "Since, then," adds this de- fender of the Papacy, " infants are without reason, so that they cannot imitate the sins of their fathers, and are nevertheless punished with the most severe of all punishments, that is to say, death tem^poral and eter- nal ; it necessarily follows that they have some other sin, for which they are justly punished : and this is what we call original sin. It cannot, therefore, be * August. Hypostgnost. Contra Pelag. lib. V. torn. iii. Col. 1405. C. Basil, 1569. + See Cramp's Kist. of Council of Treat, p. 129, and the works quoted. t Concil. Trid. Sess. VII. can. v. p. 51. Romae, 1564. § Catechismus ad Parochos, pp. 189, 191. Lugduni, 1579. tl Bellarm. de Purgat 1. II. chap. vi. torn. ii. p. 410. A. Colonie. 1628. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 19 doubted that infants (for whom it is shown from the word of Christ and apostolical tradition that Baptism is necessary^ have sin, which they bring with them from their mother's womb."* This belief passed down to the Reformed Churches, and was at first very gene- rally held. The Church of England placed the un- baptized on the same footing with the suicide and the excommunicated, and denied to them the office of bu- riaLt And this still continues to be the doctrine of the church, and of all high-church prelatists who agree on this subject with the Romanists. " Without baptism," say the Oxford Tracts, " none can enter the kingdom of heaven."t " And so momentous is this dogma in their judgment, that one leading object," says Mr. Bridges, himself an Episcopalian, "of their great movement confessedly was to bring it more fully before the* church."§ The question of the future condition of infants became thus involved with that of baptism, and was not considered upon its own merits. Eccle- siastics, who were secluded from all personal interest in domestic life, were of course insensible to the happi- ness connected with the enjoyment of children, or to * Bellarm. de Amiss. Gratiae et Statu Peccati. lib. IV. c. 7. torn. iv. p. 61. G. 62. B. + See Burns' Eccles. Law, vol. i. p. 266, and Wheatley on the Book of Prayer, p. 477. t Vol. i. p. 260. See also Dr. Pusey's work on Bajrtism, passinif Bethel on Baptismal Regeneration, pp. 7, 8, 9, &c. § See his Sacramental Instruction, p. 46, 47, where he quotes a host of authorities, including Perceval, Keble, Dr. Pusey, Sewell, Bishop Mant, &c. It would even appear that some evangelical Episcopalians of our present day are unwilling to say anything about the future con- dition of unhaptized children who die in infancy. See the Church- man's Monthly Rev. May 1843, p. 372. This doctrine of the absolute necessity of baptism to salvation was established in the Western church by papal authority, and was retciined in the English church aft- r the reformation, until the year 1604, when it was declared to be necessziry " where it may be had." See Hallow on the Order of Baptism, &c., and Ogelby on Lay Baptism, p. 159, 160, &c 20 SOLACK FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. the distress consequent upon their loss. The fate of children awakened, therefore, but a relative interest, as it affected other truths considered of more impor- tance. The horror naturally associated with this fearful doctrine was nevertheless very early felt, and at differ- ent times manifested. Various theories were adopted to throw over it a veil of charity, and to render it more tolerable to the wounded spirit of mourning pa- rents. In the time of Augustine, Vincentius, Victor and some others believed that infants dying without baptism might, notwithstanding, be saved.* This opinion was favoured by some of the School Divines, in reference to cases where baptism could not be had, inasmuch as it was the will of the parents that it should be enjoyed.t Bernard, Biel, Cajetan, and some others, adopted this charitable supposition. + And so also did Peter Martyr, Wickliffe, the Hussites, and the Lollards, who adopted, preached, and suffered for, all those doctrines which are now denominated Calvinis- tic. But this opinion has been considered as involving unconquerable difficulties. Jeremy Taylor says, " What will be the condition of unbaptized infants, so dying, I do not profess to know or teach, because God hath kept it as a secret." § Baxter, with all his charity, and perhaps too liberal views of Christian doctrine, could only go so far on this subject as to say, '^ I think that no man can prove that all imbaptized infants are damned or deni- ed heaven. Nay, I think I can prove a promise to the contrary." Beyond " penitent believers and their seed," he says, " what God may do for others unknown * See Jer. Taylor's Works, vol. ix. p. 90. t See list of in Hooker's Works, vol. ii. p. 919. X Jor. Taylor s Wi*rk«, vol. ix. p. 91 and 93. § Jeremy Taylor's Works, p. 92. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 21 to US, we have nothing to do with, but his Covenant hath made no other promise that I can find."* Similar were the sentiments of Bishop Hopkins : " Not only in- fants baptized," says he, " but all infants of believing' parents, though they should unavoidably/ die before baptism, are in the same safe and blessed condition." This, however, is the extent to v/hich he could apply his hopes.t To this charitable view of the matter, which Calvin- ists, and Calvinistic Churches generally adopted, the Pelagians could not fully assent. t They excluded infants when unbaptized from the kingdom of heaven, but promised to them an eternal and a natural beati- tude. This opinion was embraced by Ambrosius Ca- tharinus, Albertus Pighius, and Hieronymus Savana- rola, Gregory Nazianzen, Athanasius, Ambrose, Pope Innocent III., and others. § Hence arose the present doctrine of the Romish Church, which teaches that there is a liinbus patrum, or place on the borders of hell, for those who had believed in Christ before his advent ; and a limbus infantum, for children who die unbaptized. When the mists, however, which liad gathered round the ordinance of baptism were gradually dis- persed, this subject was examined on more impartial grounds. The natural feeUngs of the heart were per- mitted to declare their interest in the decision of the question. The hope expressed by Wicklifte in refer- ence to unbaptized children was eagerly embraced by his followers, who were all Calvinists, and who all re- * See Works, vol. v. p. 326 and 323. t See Works, vol. ii. p. 429. X See the Articles of the Synod of Dorl, with Scott's Notes. Works of Scott, vol. viii. p. 576. § See Jer. Taylor, vol. ix. p. 90. 22 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. garded baptism in its truly simple and scriptural char- acter. Zuinglius was perhaps the first who proclaim- ed hope for the salvation of all infants, whether CHRISTIAN OR HEATHEN, wlio died in their infancy, and before they became chargeable with the guilt of actual transgression. He maintained, that in conse- quence of the atonement of Christ offered for all, " original sin does not even damn the children of the heathen." For this conclusion concerning children generally, Zuinglius quotes Romans v. ; though he admits that we have but little light upon the subject. He rejects the idea that baptism washes away original sin and condemnation. The blessing, he says, is not tied to signs and symbols ; baptism recognizes and attests the privilege rather than confers it. " What scriptural authority," he asks, " is there for ascribing such an effect to baptism ?" " The words of Mark xvi. 16," says he, " relate to those only to whom the gospel was sent. They that hear the gospel and be- lieve it were blessed ; they who hear it, and believe it not, are accursed. But this is no prejudice to election, for both they who come to Christ are drawn to him by the Father, which is election : and they who come to the Father are chosen by him ; but so that they may at length come to him by Christ. The (infant) chil- dren of Christians are the children of God by virtue of the covenant. Concerning the children of heathens, we decide nothing : though 1 confess that I incUne to the sentiment which considers the death of Christ as available to the salvation of all who are free from ac- tual sin."* For this doctrine Bossuet charges Zuin- glius with being a Pelagian, and pronounces this a * See Epist. fo. 17, 18. Zuingl. Op. 1. 382, and Scott's Contin. of Milner, vol. iii. p. 143, 144, 146. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 23 " strange decision.''* This opinion of Zuinglius exci- ted considerable controversy.t Eckard says, '•'perhaps Zuinglius pronounced too liberally when he included the children of the heathen." The same doctrine was, however, maintained by Cornehus Wigger, and by John lac-Schultens, who embraced in the decree of predestination to eternal life those who die in infancy, whether born of Gentile or Infidel parents. This was the declared sentiment of Arminius,t Triglandius, Walders, Heidanus, Curcelleus, Maresius.§ Maresius says, " The question is, whether the decree of Election and Reprobation affects infants. There is not the smallest ground from Scripture to think it does. Let parents then be comforted for departed children. These words of Christ, ("of such is the Kingdom of Heaven,") why are they so general, but that they seem to include the children not only of believers but of un- believers also."il The Remonstrants believed that such infants as were not entitled to heaven by their relation to the covenanted mercies of God, would be consigned only to the punishment of loss, their bodies not being raised, and their souls not being annihilated, yet being eter- nally separated from the beatific vision of God.l" Many, however, regarded the decision of this question as presumptuous. They left the whole matter in the hands of God, determining nothing one way or ano- ther, but quieting themselves with the assurance, that as far as God's purpose of salvation extended it would be secured ; and that infants, as far as included in it, would be assuredly ransomed. Infants were, however, * See Hist. Var., vol. i. p. 66. t See an account of in De Moor's Comment, vol. ii. p. 104, &c. X See ditto. § See ditto. II See ditto, p. 105. ^ See ditto, p. 104. 24 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. universally regarded as involved in all the guilt of ori- ginal sin, and as requiring for their salvation the exer- cise of the same mercy, and the bestowment of the same grace, as adults. They were described by some as, " damnabilibus et forte quibus dum etiam dam- 7iandisJ^ But even when infants were included by any in the decree of Reprobation, their punishment was believed to consist, not in the positive infliction of misery, but only in the deprivation of heavenly rewards.* Calvin clearly recognized the fact that all infants are involved in the guilt of Adam's sin, and therefore liable to the misery in which it has involved our race. But at the same time he encourages the belief that they are redeemed from these evils by Christ, are capa- ble of regeneration, and are, when taken away in in- fancy, " redeemed by the blood of the Lamb." He ar- gues against those who, like the Anabaptists, asserted that regeneration cannot take place in early infancy. For says he, " if they must be left among the children of Adam, they are left in death, for in Adam we can only die. On the contrary, Christ commands them to be brought to him. Why? because he is life. To give them hfe therefore he makes them partakers of himself, while these men, by driving them away from him, adjudged them to death. "t He then goes on to prove, by incontestible arguments, that infants both have been, and can be, regenerated by God. And in his Commentary on the w^ords of our Saviour, " Of such, &c.," without any limitation of his meaning, he une- quivocally declares, that " God adopts infants and washes them in tlie blood of his Son," and that " they * See Stapfer, vol. iv. p. 518. On the ground of their condemnation, see Buddeus Theol. Dogm. p. 591. t See Institutes, B. IV. ch. XVI. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 25 are regarded by Christ as among his flock." " In this passage," he adds, " Ciirist is not speaking of the gen- eral guilt in Avhich all the descendants of Adam are in- volved, but only threatening the despisers of the gos- pel who proudly and obstinately reject the grace that is offered them; and this has nothing to do with infants. I likewise oppose a contrary argument : all tliose whom Christ bksses are exempted from the curse of Adam and the wrath of God ; and as it is known that infants were blessed b}^ him, it follows that they are exempted from death."* Certain it is, that Calvin ists were foremost in over- throwing the dogma that baptism was essentially con- '(lected with salvation, and in establishing the truth, that want of it does not militate against their future safety.t It is well known that the former opinion is still extensively held by tliose who are opposed to Cal- vinistic sentiments. On this subject Scott in answer to Bp. TomUne, remarks, " difew presumptuous, extrava- gant Calvinists have spoken shocking things of the damnation of infants : but to consign the innumerable multitudes of those all over the world, and in every age, who die before they commit actual sin, and die unbaptized, to eternal damnation, is far more shocking. Even such Calvinists may suppose some of these chil- dren to be elect and saved : but the sentiment that none dying when infants, except such as have been baptized are saved, excludes them alL"+ " The most unfeeling supra-lapsarian never ventured on so dire an * Institutes, book iv. chap. 16, see. 31, vol. ii. p. 460. See also pp. 461,456,436,435. t See Caj-twright's reply to Hooker on this subject, in Hanbury'a Hooker, vol. ii. p. 221. See also, Bp. Hopkins' Works, vol. ii. p. 4^ ; Davenant on Col., vol. ii. p. 448 ; Heywood's Works, vol. iv. p. 447 ; iPictet's Theology, p. 399. } See Works, vol. vii. p. 502. 3 26 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. opinion as to consign all the unbaptized infants, in every age and nation, to eternal misery."* This is the language of a Calvinist addressed to that larg« body of his own church who oppose Calvinism, an-v* take occasion to impeach its charity. Some Calvinist» . it is true, have in former times avoided the decision o, this question, leaving dying infants in the hands of j merciful God. But, " why," asks the same writer, " might not these Calvinists have as favourable a hop* of all infants dying before actual sin as Anti-Calvinist£ can have?"t What doctrine of the most rigid Calvinism is there, with which such a hope can possibly militate? Is it the doctrine of God's sovereignty, whereby is at- tributed to him all power and right of dominion over his creatures, to dispose of them, and to extend or withhold favour, as seemeth to him good — but why may it not please God, in the exercise of this sover- eignty, to extend his favour to all dying infants ? Is it the doctrine of election, whereby God, out of his mere love, for the praise of his glorious grace, to be manifest- ed in due time, hath, in Christ, chosen some men to eternal life and the means thereof — but why may not dying infants be among these chosen ones ? Is it the doctrine of the divine decrees, whereby, for his own glory, God hath fore-ordained whatsoever comes to pass, especially concerning angels and men — but why may not the salvation of all dying infants have been thus decreed? Is it the doctrine of God's free and rich grace, whereby the hohness, obedience, and right- eousness of Christ are imputed to us for justification ; and inherent grace is wrought in the heart by the Spirit of God, in regeneration ; — but why may not this grace be imparted to all dying infants ? If God gives • See Works, vol. x. p. 407. t Do. vol. viii. p. 573. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 27 US hope for such in his blessed Word, then is it not manifest that their salvation, instead of being thrown upon the contingency of human will ; or being made dependent upon human effort ; or connected with the moral character or personal agency of infants them- selves ; or left at hazard, through the indifference or neglect, of men ; — is based by these doctrines upon the unchangeable purpose, and the all-suflicient grace of God ; and is therefore rendered gloriously certain to the bereaved and mourning spirit of the disconsolate parent? If, however, rejecting these doctrines (wliich Calvinists love because doctrines of the Bible) we make election to rest on the foreknowledge of good works ; — or moral character to depend on moral conduct ; — and salvation to be limited, in its flow, to the channel of Christian ordinances ; — then what hope can be enter- tained for those who have been taken away while as yet they could not discern good from evil ; — while without any moral character, and thus wholly unfit for enjoyment or reward ; — and w^hile, as " nameless things," they have never passed through the " purify- ing entrance" to the kingdom of heaven ? We answer — none that is reasonable or satisfactory. But on the ground of Calvinism this hope is all that can be desired, and arises most naturally from its prin- ciples. " In perfect consistency," says Dr. Harris, in his Essay on this subject, "with their theological creed, have some Calvinists entertained the opmion advocated in the preceding pages ; while others, expressing a hope of its truth to the full extent, have discovered the wished-for evidence, in favour of the children of pious persons only ; but none of any consideration are known to have maintained, or even allowed, that the inference in question (i. e. the damnation of any in- fants) is an evident and necessary dedviction from Cal- 7S& SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. vinistic doctrines. In direct opposition to what must, therefore, be considered an unfounded aspersion, it would require but Uttle labour to prove, that the great peculiarities of this system, supply the most tenable AND SATISFACTORY GROUNDS OF HOPE FOR THE SALVATION OF ALL V/HO DEPART THIS LIFE ANTE- CEDENT TO PERSONAL TRANSGRESSION." I would here quote the language of one of our oldest and most thoroughly Calvinistic Divines, the celebrated William Perkins, a Puritan : " Infants have no works whereby they may be judged, seeing they do neither good nor evil, as the Scripture speaketh of Jacob and Esau, Rom. ix. 11. Therefore all shall not be judged according to works. Ans. These phrases of Scrip- ture, as a tnan sows, so shall he reap : every one shall receive according to his works, (^^c. are not to be extended to all, but must be restrained to such as have works, and knowledge to discern betwixt good and evil, which, infants have not. For besides that they are destitute of works, they also want the use of reason ; and therefore they shall not be judged by the book of conscience, but by the book of life. For to say as Hugo de S. Vict, doth upon the Romanes, quaest. 59, that tliey shall be condemned for the sins which their parents committed in their conception and nativ- it}^, as though they themselves had actually committed them, is contrary to that, Ezek. xviii. 20., The son shall not bear the iniquity of the Father. " Again, some may say, if children do not apprehend Christ's benefits by their parent's faith ; how then is Christ's righteousness made theirs and they saved? Ans. By the inward working of the Holy Ghost, who is the principal applier of all graces, whereas faith is but the instrument. As for the places of Scripture that mention justification and salvation by faith, they SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 29 are to be restrained to men of years : whereas infants dying in their infancy, and therefore wanting actual laith, which none can have without actual knowledge of God's will and word, are no doubt saved by some other special working of God's Holy Spirit, not known to us." " Infants," he adds, " already elected, albeit they, in the womb of their mother before they were born, or presently after, depart this hfe, they, I say, being after a secret and unspeakable manner, by God's spirit en- grafted into Christ, obtain eternal life." 1 Cor. xii. 13. Luke i. 35, 41, 64, and Jer. i. 5.* And equally strong speaks the great Coryphaeus of Calvinism, who carried out its principles to their ex- tremest limits, I mean the celebrated Toplady. In his vindication of the Church of England from Arminian- ism, he had asserted his belief in the salvation of all infants dying in infancy. This opinion his opponents interpreted as involving the doctrine of general redemp- tion. " As if," says Toplady, " all died in infancy." '-' I testify my firm belief, that the souls of all departed infants are with God in glory : that, in the decree of predestination to hfe, God hath included all whom he mtended to take away in infancy ; and that the decree of reprobation hath nothing to do with them."t " In the mean while (says he) I should be obliged if he would, with the help of Mr. Wesley's irradiation, show me what becomes of departed infants, upon the Armin- ian plan of conditional salvation, and election of good works foreseen." Dr. Gill, who resembled Toplady in carrying out the principles of Calvinism to their extremest hmit, also resembled him in holding this comfortable view of the doctrine of election. In his Complete Body of « Works, Fol vol. iii. p. 386. VoL ii p. 127, and vol. i. p. 77. + Ditto, vol. i. p. 207. 3* 30 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Practical and Doctrinal Diviniti/, he makes the fol- lowing remark on the case of infants dying in infancy : '^ Now such a number as they are, can never be thought to be brought into being in vain, God is and will be glorified in them ; now though their election is a secret to us, and unrevealed, it may be reasonably supposed, yea in a judgment of charity it may rather be concluded, that they are all chosen, than that none are. But the election of them cannot be owing to their faith, holiness, obedience, good works, and perse- verance, or to the foresight of these things, which do not appear in them." I may refer also to the sentiments of Tyndale, the Translator of the New Testament into English ;* of Pictet the learned Professor of Geneva ;t to the touch- ing letter of Whitefield on the death of his infant son;t of Watts to a lady bereaved of several infant children ; and of the pious Rutherford to a lady on the loss of a daughter ;§ of Addington,ll and of Robert Hall;1[ of Howe,** and of Cotton Mather, tt Buchanan, tt and these are all Oalvinists. It may be well, however, to add a few more quota- tions from Calvinistic writers. Dr. Wilhams, in his " Defence of Modern Calvinism " against the attacks and misrepresentations of Bishop Tomline, at p. 75, says : " That they [infants] are capable of regeneration indeed, is admitted, as well as of remission, justification, * See Works, vol ii. p. 516. t See his Theol. B. xi. Chap. iv. pp. 494, 495, and p. 444, 445. t See Life of, by Philip. § See Letters, Part 2, Letter iii. II Work on Baptism, p. 62-64, 67,* 76. T Works, vol. i. p. 88, 89. ** Works of John Howe, vol. iv. p. 4, 5, and vol. vii. p. 544, 5. tt See quoted afterwards. tt Rev. James Buchanan of Edinburgh, in his Office and Work of the Holy Spirit, Part. 1, ch. viii. on the Regeneration of Infants. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 31 holiness of nature, and heavenly blessedness ; and we reflect with pleasure, that the Holy Scriptures afford many encouraging intimations relative to the salvation of dying infants — whether baptized or not. Though they have no hope, we have hope concerning them." The same view is also presented in that noble defence of Calvinistic doctrine, the Lime Street Lectures, where it is said, " an elect infant is as capable of being effectually called, or renewed by grace, of being freely justified, and for ever glorified, as a grown person."* Again, at another place, the subject is more fully dis- cussed — " As for infants, we take it for granted, in the present argument, that they are conceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity ; that that which is born of the flesh, is flesh ; that they are, by reason of the disobe- dience of the first man, sinners, and so unworthy of, and unmeet for, the heavenly glory, and must be ex- cluded from it, unless washed in the blood of Jesus and sanctified by the Holy Spirit. To suppose them all, or indeed any of them, to perish is to be cruelly WISE above what is w^ritten : and to imagine they are so holy, as to need no cleansing, or that any thing defiled can enter into heaven, is directly flying in the face of Scripture : so that, though we are not told positively what is their portion ; yet we may safely determine that they are made meet, if in heaven, for that inheritance w^hich is incor- ruptible and undefiled." I will only add to these authorities the following remarkable quotation from the National Covenant adopted in Scotland in the year 1581, again in 1590, 1638, 1639, 1640, 1650 and 1651. "But," says this venerable document, in detaihng the enormous errors * P. 279, 280, Eng. ed. 32 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS, of the Roman Antichrist, ^' in special we detest and refuse his cruel judgment against infants departing without the Sacrament, and his absolute necessity of baptism," (fee* Dr. Junkin, also, of the Presbyterian Church in this country, and one of the strongest defenders of strict old-fashioned Calvinism, in his late work on the doc- trine of Justification, heads his 10th chapter thus : " Original Sin — proved from the salvation of those that die in infancy." " It is not inconsistent/' says he^ "with any doctt-ine of the Bible, that the souls of de- ceased infants go to heaven." '• As to the opinion that ALL who die in infanc}^^ both children of believ- ers AND UNBELIEVERS; CHRISTIANS AND PAGANS, go to happiness and heaven, it may be harmlessly en- tertained ; it may however operate an evil influence upon the minds of wicked and unbeUeving parents." " While therefore I have no objection to the opinion that all who die in infancy go to happiness, yet I must think that in reference to the infants of unbelievers, it is mere opinion, although it is in all probability an opinion according to truth ."t The Rev. Thomas Scott the author of the Commen- tary, and another of the boldest defenders of the Cal- vinistic doctrines, says, " I do not propose it as an arti- cle of faith ; for it is not expressly revealed (though it appears to be favoured in scripture) that as infants, withovit actual transgression, are involved in the ruin of our race by the first Adam, so infants, as such, dy- ing before actual transgressioa, before they are capable of knowing right from wrong, are, without personal repentance and feiith, but not without regeneration, made partakers of the salvation of the second Adam. • See Irving's Confessions, p. 135. + P. 141, 143. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 33 I do not say, ' It is so ;' but, ' probably it may be so*' And, when we consider what a large proportion of the human race, in every age and nation, die in infancy, it appears to me a cheering thought." Thus, also, speaks Newton : '' I hope you are both well reconciled to the death of your child. Indeed, I cannot be sorry for the death of infants. How many storms do they escape ! Nor can I doubt, in my pri- vate judgment, that they are included in the election of grace. Perhaps those who die in infancy ire the exceeding great multitudes of all people, nations, and languages mentioned (Rev. vii. 9.) in distinction from the visible body of professing believers, who were marked in their foreheads, and openly known to be the Lord's." But these quotations it is unnecessary to multiply. In the Presbyterian and other Calvinistic churches, in- cluding the Congregational, which embrace the doc- trinal portions of the Westminster Confession of Faith, there is, it is true, no canonical determination on this subject. This Confession says : " Elect infants, dying in infancy, are regenerated and saved by Christ through the spirit."* It teaches, therefore, the cer- tainty OF THE salvation OF ALL INFANTS, WHO ARE ELECT. It also teaches that baptism is not ne- cessarily connected with grace and salvation, and that exclusion from it does not exclude from regeneration.! It teaches further that infants, though incapable of ex- hibiting their faith, may be regenerated.^ It leaves every one therefore from an examination of the Scrip- tures to decide how far the electing love of God ex- tends. At this time it is, I suppose, universally believ- * Ch. 10, sec. 3. t Ch. 28, sec. 5. t See note 3, and see Larachi Op. Tom. ii. p. 47. Dick's TheoL vol. iv. p. 75, and Calvin's Instit. 13, 4. 34 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ed by Presbyterians, and those who hold to the doctrine of election, that all dying infants are included among the elect, are made heirs of grace, and become mem- bers of the kingdom of heaven. I, at least, am not ac- quainted with any Avho hold an opposite sentiment. Possibly, when the doctrine is extended to the infants of Heathen parents, some might not be prepared fully to concur in it ; but that there is ground from Scrip- ture to believe that even they are included in the promises of Divine mercy, and are, as Mr. Toplady confidently says, " all undoubtedly saved," is, I have no doubt, an opinion to which Presbyterians will, gen- erally, subscribe. The opposite opinion, which has been maintained by some Calvinists, in common with many Arminians of former days, and which is held by the Roman Catholic Church at the 'present time,- may be most certainly regarded, as a recent writer has said, as " an excrescence, and not an essential feature, of the system of Calvinism." The assertion, however, is still frequently and most slanderously published, that Calvinists beheve that children, dying in infancy, are damned; that this is the doctrine of our confession of faith ; and that Cal- vin expressly taught that there are infants in hell only a span long. Nothing, however, can be more untrue. As to the opinion of Calvinists, we have shown that it is now universally in favour of the hope that all chil- dren dying in infancy are saved through the merits of Christ's death, applied by the Holy Ghost. Calvin, also, as has been shown, was among the very first of the reformers to overthrow the unchristian and most horrible doctrine of the Romish and High-church di- vines, that no unbaptized infant can be saved ; to maintain the possibility of their regeneration by the Spirit without baptism ; and to encourage the hope of SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 35 their general salvation. And as to the passage in the Westminster Confession of Faith, which is sup- posed to teach the damnation of infants, it is contained in ch. X. sec. 3, and is as follows : " Elect infants, dying in infancy, are regenerated and saved by Christ through the Spirit, who worketh when, and where, and how he pleaseth. So also are all other elect persons, who are incapable of being out- wardly called by the Ministry of the Word." The subject of this chapter is " effectual caUing," by which, it is beheved, that " all those whom God hath predestinated unto life he is pleased, in his appointed time, effectually to call out of that state of sin and death in which they are, by nature, to grace and sal- vation by Jesus Christ," &c. (See Sect. I.) — The Con- fession proceeds in Sect. 2d, to say : " This effectual call is of God's free and special grace alone, not from any thing at all foreseen in man, who is altogether passive therein, until being quickened and renewed by the Holy Spirit, he is thereby enabled to answer this call, and to embrace the grace offered and conveyed in it." Now the objection which would naturally arise in the mind against this doctrine, would be this — If this is so, then does not this doctrine apparently exclude in- fants from any participation in this salvation, since they clearly are not capable of obeying this call, and of embracing this offered grace. The Confession, therefore, proceeds to obviate this objection by showing that, as this calling in itself considered, and the power and the. disposition to answer this call, and embrace the grace conveyed in it, is a different thing from that answer and embrace — there is no more difficulty in bestowing this quickening and renewing influence of the Holy Spirit upon infants than upon adults. In- 36 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. lants as well as adults may be thus effectually called and regenerated, though adults only are in a state fit- ting them to act upon this call by the exercise of their renewed powers and sanctified will. Regenerated in- fants are equally, with adults, endued with a renewed and holy disposition, which will develope itself, when the subject is capable, in holy acts. Our Confession, therefore, wisely, charitably, and scripturally concludes, that this grace is co-extensive with God's electing love and mercy, and is bestowed upon the objects of that love, whether they are removed from this world in a state of infancy, or of maturity. It overthrows the doctrine of Romanists, High Church Episcopalians, and others, who teach that this grace of salvation, by the renewing of the Holy Ghost, is tied down and lim- ited — -jirst^ by what they most vainly and arrogantly call the only true Church, to wit, the Romanist or Episcopal Churches, and secondly by the ordinances of baptism as administered in these churches ; and what the passage does decide, is, as Calvinists now univer- sally agree in believing, that there is every REASONABLE GROUND TO HOPE THAT ALL INFANTS DYING IN INFANCY ARE INCLUDED IN THE DECREE OF ELECTION AND ARE MADE PARTAKERS OF EVER- LASTING LIFE.* This, then, is the view of Calvinists ; and while it favours the most unbounded charity and hope, it rests that hope, not upon any thing in the in- fant itself, nor upon any thing done for it by any church, but upon the sure purpose of a merciful God, and the comfortable promises and declarations of his word. • Thus Dr. Gumming, of the Scotch Church in London, has lately published a Discourse to prove that all children dying in infancy, OR RSFORE THE YEARS OF RESPONBIWHTY, ARE, WITHOUT ONE EXCKP- TTON OR LIMITATION AB TO THE CHARACTER OR" THE CONDUCT OJT TH« solace for bereaved parents. o7 Among all evangelical denomination's this OPINION IS now received. We have given the names of EvangeHcal EpiscopaHans. Gillard, whose treatise I have mentioned, was, I presume, both a Bap- tist and a Calvinist. Dr. Gill's sentiments have been alluded to, and they are quoted with approbation in the Baptist Confession of Faith. The Rev. Robert Robinson, who has written the History of Baptism, thus expresses himself: " Various opinions concerning the future state of infants have been adopted. The most probable opinion seems to be, that they are all saved through the merit of the Mediator, with an ever- lasting salvation. This hath nothing in it contrary to the perfections of God, or to any declarations of the holy scriptures ; and it is highly agreeable to all those passages, which affirm, where sin hath abounded, grace hath much tnore abounded. On these princi- ples, the death of Christ saves more than the fall of Adam lost.*' Wesley does not appear to have determined this question at all. The salvation of all dying in infancy is, however, the prevalent belief among his followers. The Rev. Richard Watson, who is deservedly regarded as the ablest writer, and as a standard authority among the Methodists, very powerfully advocates this opinion.* This is also the established beUef of the Lutheran Church,t as it is of the (Quaker denomination.!: But whence, we ask, arose this community of opin- ion? It originated, as has been shown, among the * See his Institutes, voL ii. p. 228, and vol. iii. p. 72. t See Schmucker's Theology, 128, and p. 220. Storr & Flatt's Theology, sec. 68, p. 394. Mosheim wrote a treatise, which we have not seen, on this subject. X See Barclay's Apology, 4 OO SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Calvinists. The battle for liberty and charity of opin- ion against the dogmas of the church was fought by them. Even when light had not irradiated the subject, and it was still shrouded in the darkness of prejudice, many Calvinists, rather than yield to the gloom of the generally entertained opinion that all unbaptized in- fants perish, groped about for any possible theory that might relieve them of their distress. Some, as I have shown, threw a veil of impenetrable darkness over the whole subject, and regarded an entrance upon its ex- amination as presumption.* Others were induced to believe that the souls of all such children would be an- nihilated.! Others, that their souls remained in a state of insensibility either to good or evil.t All advocated the possibility of their salvation — the /9r«c^ica6t7i^y of their regeneration — and all denied the absolute ne- cessity of baptism to either. And can any one deny that the present clear and settled views on this subject have been introduced by Calvinists? Let him only remember that every one of the works and discourses on the subject to which I have alluded, were written by Calvinists ; that almost all the selections I have been enabled to collect are from writers holding the same views ; and that much even of the finest of our Poetical Selections, are from authors whose muse wa? guided by Calvinistic views. Our work, in fact, may be regarded as a noble testimony to the truly scriptural and CHARITABLE nature of those much abused, be- cause misunderstood, doctrines which most Evangelical churches agree in adopting. And surely it may be expected, that these facts will give joy and consolation to those christians whose ideas of Calvinism have been * See De Moor, Stapfer, Doddridge, (sec. 168,) Baxter, t This was Dr. Watts' laboured hypothesis. > Works, t Dr. Ridgley advocated this opinion. See ^ i^ivinity. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 39 such as to lead them to cherish the prejudices that are so commonly and so ignorantly entertained, and enable them to cherish more kind and liberal feehngs towards Calvinistic churches. And that the reader may still more clearly perceive how much bereaved parents are indebted to Calvinism for the present comfortable and established hopes for dying infants, let me call his attention to the conflict- ing opinions which once prevailed on this much con- troverted subject, as they are given by Baxter : " Some think that all infants (baptized or not) are saved from hell, and positive punishment, but are not brought to heaven, as being not capable of such joys. " Some think that all infants (dying such) are saved as others are, by actual felicity in heaven, though in a lower degree. Both these sorts suppose that Christ's death saveth all that reject it not, and that infants re- ject it not. " Some think that all unbaptized infants do suffer the ' poenam damni,' and are shut out of heaven and happiness, but not sensibly punished or cast into hell. For this Jansenius hath wrote a treatise ; and maay other Papists think so. " Some think that all the children of sincere believers dying in infancy are saved, (that is, glorified,) whether baptized or not ; and no others. " Some think that God hath not at all revealed what he will do with any infants. " Some think that all the adopted and bought chil- dren of true Christians, as Avell as the natural, are saved (if baptized, say some ; or if not, say others.) "Some think that elect infants are saved, and no other. " Some think that all that the pastor dedicateth to God are saved. 40 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. " Some think that this is to be limited to all that have right to baptism ' coram Deo ;' which some think the Church's reception giveth them. " And some think it is to be limited to those that have right ' coram ecclesia,' or are rightfully baptized.'' Bereaved Parent ! what would be the aggravation of your distress if still plunged in this vortex of con- flicting opinions ? and how much, therefore, should it add to your patient resignation to the will of God in the removal of your children, when you find that all BRANCHES OF THE PROTESTANT EVANGELICAL CHURCH, HAVE NOAV COME TO A COMMON AND UNITED BELIEF, THAT THERE IS EVERY REASON TO HOPE, THAT, IN SO DOING, GoD HAS SECURED THEIR SALVATION, AND WOULD ALSO LEAD TO YOUR SPIRITUAL AND EVERLASTING GOOD. It will be our object, then, to illustrate this subject, and to prove the salvation of tliose who die before they reach the age of personal responsibility, or in other words, before they become, properly speaking, moral agents. It is by no means pretended that we can pre- cisely specify the exact period when personal accounta- bility commences. This will vary in different individ- uals, according to the degree of natural faculties of which they are severally possessed, and according to the means which they have enjoyed for their develop- ment. Some may be as accountable when but a few years old, as others are when double their age. It is for parents then to begin as soon as practicable to train up their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; to seek to instil into their tender minds the truths of the gospel ; and to bear them on their hearts at the throne of the heavenly grace; and then the event may be left with confidence in the hands of the God of all mercy and faithfulness." SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 41 In doing this, however, let none imagine that we are about to lose sight of any of the great doctrines of the evangehcal system, and be thereby led to entertain doubts or prejudices against our views. To use the words of Dr. Russell, in his valuable Es- say on this subject, " Though the great question is, * What saith the scriptures?' and not. What saith this or the other reformer ? yet, as names are sometimes used as the means of reproaching the innocent, and mislead- ing the unwary, and the uninformed, it may be proper to state, that there is nothing in the great pecuharities of the system commonly called moderate Calvinism which is in the least incompatible with the salvation of infants. On the contrary, that system, as now held by its en- lightened advocates, furnishes the most tenable and sat- isfactory grounds for the pleasing persuasion, that all who die without personal transgression, are written in the Lamb's book of life. Accordingly, very many of its most decided friends have avowed their conviction of this, in relation to all dying in infancy. And even some of the very highest, if not even hyper-Calvinists, have expressed themselves favourably in regard to it. — This, for instance, has been done by Dr. Gill, who says^ * that many unguarded expressions have been dropped, concerning the punishment of such, which are not at all to the credit of truth.'* Mr. Toplady, to whom we have already referred, has given an explanation of our Lord's admonition in Matth. xviii. 10, which (suppos- ing it to be just) affords a direct proof of the sentiment in question. ' Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones, for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.' He understands by their angels, * Body of Divinity, vol. 11. p. 543, 4* 42 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. * the souls of such children as die in their infancy,' who upon their bodies being previously ^ dislodged by death, do always behold the face of God, who is in heaven.'* Now, whatever may be thought of this in- terpretation of the passage, or of the word angel, in this connexion, (which some think is supported by Acts xii. 15,) it will be allowed, that the salvation of infants was not considered by this writer as inconsist- ent even with the high views which he connected with the doctrine of election, and in the defence of which he was so active and zealous. In other parts of his works, he expresses his full conviction, that all dying in infancy are saved through Christ. It must be very uncandid, then, to represent a man as inimical to the principles of what is called modern or moderate Calvin- ism, because he believes in the salvation of departed infants, when the sentiment has been held by some of the keenest defenders of the very highest Calvinism.f It maj^ be added, that the opposite sentiment has not been exclusively held by persons of one school of theol- ogy, for not a few Anti-Calvinists have held, that a great proportion of those who die in infancy, are at least excluded from the benefits of redemption. The question of course is, on what grounds do the respec- tive advocates of these different view^s rest their partic- ular sentiments ? That some maintain the universal salvation of deceased infants on unscriptural grounds is true, but is this a reason for charging all who hold the sentiment with those errors, in the face of evidence sufficient to satisfy every candid mind, that they rest it on grounds altogether different ? It were well, if some of the friends of Calvinism would take the advice * Historic proof of the Calvinism of the Church of England. In- trod. p. 78. t Toplady's Works, vol. i. pp. 101, 207, 208. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 43 given by Bishop Horsley to his enemies, ' Take special care before you aim your shafts at Calvinism that you know what it is.' Not a few who profess to hold that system, are but Uttle acquainted with it, and confound certain illegitimate inferences drawn from it, with hos- tihty to the system itself, while Anti-Calvinists continue to charge the friends of Calvinism with holding those inferences in the face of repeated denials. This is very unfair. I refer here, in particular, to the doctrine of sovereign reprobation, and to what is connected with it. It is a fact, too, that some who wish to be consid- ered the only friends of Calvinism, hold sentiments which were by no means held by Calvin, and not seldom represent sentiments as Arminian, which were actually held by him. In a word, let candour be ex- ercised, and never let those be blamed as inimical to a particular system, who may be unwilling to admit some unjust and exceptionable inferences, which have been rashly drawn from it, because they appear to them injurious excrescences, that deform and weaken its strength." There is, then, every thing to carry the arguments of the following chapters with power and consolation to the heart of every bereaved parent, and thus to shed the bright beams of hope upon the gloom of his sor- row, to take from the death of infants its sting, to dis- arm their grave of all victory, and to enable their pa- rents to rejoice in the comfortable hope that they are exalted to glory, honour, and immortahty. I never grieve to see an infant die. Or mark the frost of death within its eye ; 'Tis but a messenger — a welcome guest — To hie its spirit to the world of rest. Who, who would weep, or mournful heave a sigh, To watch its progress to its native sky ? ^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Who, who would have it longer stay on earth, When there awaits it an immortal birth ? Sin, with its dreadful impress, marks our race, In every form its ravages we trace ; From earliest dawn of life to hoary age. The fell destroyer vents his fiercest rage. All, all must die — then wherefore long delay. And whence the wish to dwell in cumbrous clay? Why cling to life with such tenacity. When death but gives a blest eternity? The gospel consolation meets us here. To banish doubt and quell each anxious fear : " As little children such the kingdom is, Forbid them not, for they shall live in bliss." Blest promise to the heart oppressed with pain ; Ouf loss shall prove but their eternal gain ; And while we shed the sympathetic tear. They shall arise, and " read their title clear !" I saw a precious babe convulsed with pain ; I marked the heaving of its little breast ; I saw it wither, waste, and die, But knew its spirit panted for the sky. Say, shall we mourn for such a loss as this ? Say, would we stay it from immortal bliss? Ah ! no ; but when life's dullsome dreams are o'er, We'll join it, there to dwell forever more. " The death of children," to use the words of Dr. Lawson, another Calvinistic and old divine, " puts a final period to all that we can do for them, but our grief on this occasion is effectually counterbalanced by the consciousness that we have earnestly endeavoured to do what lay in our power whilst they were with us; especially when we have good reason to hope that our prayers for them have not been rejected, and that Di- vine Mercy led them safe through Ufe and death to a world from whence they would not for a thousand worlds return. I have lost for the rest of my time in SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 45 this world some children whose faces I always beheld with pleasure, but I hope, young as they were, they were better fitted for leaving this world than I am. We are authorized by Scripture, without expecting a revelation from God respecting their state, to rejoice in the hope that they are sleeping in Jesus, and living with him, shall be brought with him in the great day ef his appearance."* Sure, to the mansions of the blest When infant innocence ascends, Some angel, brighter than the rest, The spotless spirit's flight attends. On wings of ecstacy they rise, Beyond where world's material roll, Till some fair sister of the skies Receives the unpolluted soul. That inextinguishable beam. With dust united at our birth, Sheds a more dim, discoloured gleam, The more it lingers upon earth. Closed in this dark abode of clay. The stream of glory faintly burns : — Not unobserved, the lucid ray To its own native fount returns. But when the Lord of mortal breath Decrees his bounty to resume. And points the silent shaft of death Which speeds an infant to the tomb — No passion fierce, nor low desire, Has quenched the radiance of the flame ; Back to its God the living fire Reverts, unclouded as it came. Fond mourner ! be that solace thine ! Let Hope her healing charm impart, And soothe, with melodies divine. The anguish of a mother's heart. * Discourses, p. 23. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. O, think ! the darlings of thy love, Divested of this earthly clod, Amid unnumbered saints above. Bask in the bosom of their God. Of their short pilgrimage on earth Still tender images remain : Still, still they bless thee for their birth, Still filial gratitude retain. Each anxious care, each rending sigh, That wrung for them the parent's breast, Dwells on remembrance in the sky, Amid the raptures of the blest. O'er thee, with looks of love, they bend ; For thee the Lord of life implore : And oft from sainted bliss descend, Thy wounded quiet to restore. Oft in the stillness of the night, They smooth the pillow of thy bed, Oft till the morn's returning light Still watchful hover o'er thy head. Hark ! in such strains as saints employ, They whisper to thy bosom peace ; Calm the perturbed heart to joy, And bid the streaming sorrow cease. Then dry, henceforth, the bitter tear : Their part and thine inverted see. Thou wert their guardian angel here. They guardian angels now to thee 1 CHAPTER III rHE NECESSITY FOR DISCUSSING THE DOCTRINE OF THE SAL- VATION OF INFANTS. O Lord, the message from thy throne has come I We hear thy voice, and give her back to thee ; With tears we lay our darling in the tomb ; In faith her spirit at thy feet we see. Death is one of the profoundest mysteries of Nature. With all the light which science has thrown around it ; with all the increased knowledge we have acquired of its phenomena ; Ufe, in its origin, in its nature, and in its cessation, remains as incomprehensible as ever. We stand amazed at the entrance into our world of a new, liv- ing, and active being — the miniature of man — breathing the same air. and exercising the same functions, inca- pable of instruction, and yet displaying the most per- fect knowledge, wholly unable to help himself, and yet exhibiting the most inimitable skill. How then are we filled with horror, when that same being, even in its beauty, " a thing all health and glee," is prostrated by some invisible power, upturns its glazed eye, and with the quivering of its soft lip and the convulsion of its httle Hmbs, sinks into the waxen form of death. Were an inhabitant of some other world, where im- mortality was the duration of existence, and perpetual bloom the appearance of the outward form, by any chance to visit this ; probably he w^ould first be attract- ed by the glory of that same God he had ever worship- ped, written, as it is, in such lines of magnificence and 48 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. beauty upon the Iieavens above, and upon the firma- ment around. The same wisdom, goodness and pow- er, in which he had ever rejoiced, would shine forth re- splendently from every star, and from every mountain, lake and valley. The same chorus sung by those above, ascribing glory, honour, majesty and praise untG God Most High, would echo from the earth beneath, and swell the anthem of the skies. He would still feel in his own breast the spirit of piety — the spirit of joy, and peace, and devotion ; — and he would still feel that he moved amid the wonders of His creating hand who fills the univ^erse with his praise. But what would be the emotions of this stranger, when he turned his gaze towards the inhabitants of this fair creation ? When he saw sickness or pain — bed-ridden decrepitude, or helpless old age, — when he heard groans and lamentations, the voice of misery and care, or the loud wail of bereavement — in every house- hold ? When he beheld the moving form of strength, and beauty, and intelligence, withered by the blast of death, become pale, motionless, and ghastly — how great would be his unutterable terror ! Surely he would at once conclude that they were a race of bold and hard- ened sinners, against whom the fierceness of the anger of the Almighty was poured out. But when he observed yet longer — when he saw man in the innocency of his first young dawn, with rosy lip and cherub eye, his countenance radiant with smiles, and his heart filled with love, as yet unconscious of his relation to his God, and incapable of wilfully offending him, — when he saw this young voyager not yet well launched upon the ocean of life — wrecked upon its very coast, cast among its roughest breakers, shattered by its fiercest storms, and borne into eternity by most disas- trous calamity ; — when he saw the cradle, instead of SOLACE FOR, BEREAVED PARENTS. 49 being a place of rest, converted into a little hospital, and its babe, instead of a gentle sleeper laughing through its sweet dreams of yet untasted happiness, a sufferer torn and agonized by writliing and convulsive torture, with the cup of life dashed from its hps ere it had well tasted of its hopes or its blessings — would he not ex- claim, " My Cod, and can it be ! Is not this thine own creation ? Are not these tl dne own offspring ? If, then, parents are wicked, and deserve thy wrath, yet surely these 'innocents' might be spared their sufferings. Wliat fiend of darkness has gained possession of this earth, and fixed liere his empire of horrid cruelty ? 'Thy judgments, O Lord, are a great deep. They are unsearchable, and past finding out.' " Truly, these feelings would not be strange in such a visitant, at such a sight. They would be our own, were we not familiarized to such scenes of woe. For, while reason might teach us that it was well for those Avho had outlived the activities and the joys of life to leave it- -that they were happy who, ere that period of imbe- ciUty arrived, had retired from its coming ills ; — yet never could we learn from reason alone that it was right, or that it was well for those wlio had passed through the painful entrance of life, and had not yet awakened to the reahzation of its joys, to be driven through its still more painful exit. No ! Death is the profoundest mystery of Nature, and the sufferings and death of in- fants the profoundest mystery of Death. Nay, my reader, have you not yourself felt, in some hour of sad bereavement, the unsearchable mystery of this dispensation of Providence ? I address myself now to those who, like myself, are the parents of children who were^ but «re not. When in the very fulness of life, while buoyant with playful mirth, and drinking in the promise of a happy future, and while forming to you '50 SOLACI-: FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. the objects of so many tender solicitudes and fond hopes, you saw your beloved child bowed down by the pres- ence of some sudden disease ; — when unable to tell its woes you savv^ its playfulness forsake it ; its smiles, one by one, depart ; the happy expression of its sweet countenance give place to one of painfulness ; its strength gradually fail ; its voice become too weak to utter even the lisping name of its loved nurse or parent ; — when you watched beside the little sufferer, incredu- lous that it could die, as it sunk rapidly into insensibil- ity, until at last the glazed eye, the unmoving chest, the pulseless arm, and the inexpressible solemnity of Death startled you into the awful truth that it was gone ; — oh ! in that hour of intensest agony, did there not seem to fall upon a world, ere while fair and bright, one wide covering of gloom ? Did there not appear, amid the busiest haunts of men, to be the silence of desolation ? Did not life cease to have any charms, fortune any at- tractions, and earth itself any possible endurance ? Did not the full heart swell with unholy murmuring against Him who made you, and who made your offspring, only to make you, as the Evil One would then suggest, miserable by their destruction ? In such circumstances a desolate father, even with christian hopes, but not in the exercise of christian faith, would say, " For oh ! to dry a mother's tears, Another babe may bloom. But what remains on earth to him, Whose last is in the tomb ! To think his child is blest above, To pray their parting brief, These, these may soothe^ but death alone, Can heal a father's grief"* • A Father's Grief, in Poems, by the Rev. T. Dale. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 61 Is it any Avonder that, in such a time of human weakness and woe, when under no guidance or restraint from the truths of a heavenly faith, the Heathen moth- er will mangle herself with torture, will dishevel her- self of all future charms, and cut herself off, if not from Ufe, yet from all future interest in it?* The sorrow of * Thisdescriptiou will not appear exaggerated to those who have had ail opportunity of witnessing the workings of nature in the bereaved mother, when its violence is not restrained by the powerful hand of re- ligious principle, or bv the presence of otlier motives exercising a similar control. A father, who was quite respectable and intelligent, but not pious, once said to me, when his child had been taken from him, " My God, what have I done against thee, to desen^e this at thy hands." How frequently are parents found under similar circumstances, altogeth- er unwilling to give up their children, and v/hoily unable to acknowledge the wisdom or goodness which led to their removal. I have seen a mother weep at the recollection of an infant which had been separated from her many 3'ears previously. '• It is," says Doddridge, "to a pa- rent indeed such a cutting stroke, that I wonder not if nature shrink back at the very mention of it."* " When once the mind has surmounted the difficulties that press upon it," says a bereaved parent, " it acts witli increased A^igour and a more enlarged freedom. At first the attention becomes riveted to the mass of breathless clay. With a too intense, but pardonable fondness, it clings, as Doddridge tenderly expresses it, to ' the darling dust.' There is the image of your child ; and what a ray of comfort darts across the deep sorrow of the soul, when you can see or say, or hear others say, ' she loaks natural ." Not long will that be true. Those lips once in- stinct with the warm colouring of life, are now cold and colourless. Would they would remain even so ! But no, they must decay, and be hidden in the dust. The cheek that was often pressed to yours in the ardour of filial love, has now on it only the marble chill of death. Oh, how the heart writhes in a paroxysm of agony, when the truth and reality of the thing are felt. Would it were literal marble, that the heart might love ihat ; but no, the decay of the grave must deform and dissolve the fair clay. The siumberer will not indeed be sensible to this process, but the livmg know it. The father knows that the cherished form of his child moulders in the grave. The mother knows that the loved one, whom she bore, and nursed, and fondled, is now buried out of her sight. Such is the sad necessity of death I And it is on these subjects that the mind is too apt to dwell." Now, if such is the truth in reference to christian communities, how much more violent must be the ebullitions of grief in the hearts of heath- en parents, when vice and superstitious belief ha\»e not extinguished all maternal affection. That parental feeling survives amid the wreck of every better principle, and actuates the bosom of the pagan mother as * D-..Jarent that has lost an infant — could you say to your infant, if it were to come back, Weep no more, my child ? Could you dry all the tears from its eye, so that it should mourn no more ? What could you prom- ise it 7 Seventy years of sore pilgrimage at the very best, in a world where men must become almost mar- tyrs to get their daily bread : where all is hollow, de- ceptive, unreal, and where every moment as it speeds tells us that the great ocean-stream of eternity is rush- ing onwards, and carrying millions unprepared to the judgment-seat of God. Better is the babe in its Fa- ther's home. .We do not wish to recal it. The tears of nature are wiped away by the hand of grace. We do not sorrow because our infants are removed. We rejoice. " The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be His name, and blessed are the dead that died in Him, for they rest from their labours." They go (happy and holy ones) from a life of martyr- dom to a life of millennial blessedness ; and if an infant tongue in heaven could be audible on earth, that infant's tongue would say— Weep not for me ; " if ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I am gone unto my Father." THE DYING INFANT TO ITS MOTHER. Cease here longer to detain me, Fondest mother, drowned in woe, Now thy kind caresses pain me, Morn advances — let me go. See yon orient streak appearing, Harbinger of endless day : Hark ! a voice the darkness cheering, Calls my new-born soul away. Lately launched, a trembling stranger, On the world's wild, boisterous flood, Pierced with sorrows, tossed with danger, Gladly I return to God. 96 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Now my trembling heart find rest ; Kinder arms than thine receive me, Softer pillow than thy breast. There, my mother, pleasures centre ; Weeping, parting, care, or woe, ' Ne'er our Father's house shall enter : Morn advances — let me go. Yes, bereaved parents, the hour is on the wing when we shall meet them, and mingle our liosannahs with theirs. EPITAPH ON A CHILD. Sleep on, my babe ! thy little bed Is cold, indeed, and narrow ; Yet calmly there shall rest thy head, And neither mortal pain nor dread Shall e'er thy feelings harrow ! Thou may' St no more return to me ; But there's a time, my dearest. When I shall lay me down by thee. And when of all, my babe shall be That sleep around, the nearest ! And sound our sleep shall be, my child. Were earth's foundations shaken ; Till He, the pure, the undefil'd, Who once, like thee, an infant smil'd. The dead to life awaken ! Then, if to Him, with faith sincere, My babe at death was given, The kindred tie that bound us here, Though rent apart with many a tear. Shall be renewed in Heaven ! SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 97 OH, WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. MARY E. BROOKS. Oh, weep not for the dead ! Rather, oh rather give the tear To th»se that darkly linger here, When all besides are fled. Weep for the spiiit withering In its cold cheerless sorrowing, Weep for the young and lovely one That ruin darkly revels on ; But never be a tear-drop shed For them, the pure enfranchised dead. Oh, weep not for the dead ! No more for them the blighting chill. The thousand shades of earthly ill, The thousand thorns we tread ; Weep for the life-charm early flown. The spirit broken, bleeding, lone ; Weep for the death-pangs of the heart, Ere being from the bosom part ; But never be a tear-drop given To those that rest in yon blue heaven. POUR NOT THE VOICE OF GRIEF. ROBERT MORRIS. Pour not the voice of grief Above the sable bier ! The weary spirit finds relief In some more hallowed sphere. What recks it that the lip Hath lost its thrilling hue — Untainted was their fellowship As blushing rose and dew. And now — too soon a creeping thing, Will, like a leech, there feed and diag I 9 98 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Yet weep not for the dead Who early pass away, Ere hope and joy and youth have fled, Ere woe has wro-ught decay ? Better to die in youth, When life is green and bright, Than when the heart has lost its truth In age and sorrow's night — Then woes and years around us throng, And death'.* chill grasp is on us long. Life is a rifled flower When love's pure visions fade — A broken spell — ^a faded hour — An echo — and a shade I The poet's thirst for fame, And siren beauty's kiss, Ambition's height, and honour's name, •• But yield a phantom bliss — And man turns back from every goal Thirsting for some high bliss of soul. Would I had died when young ! How many burning tears. And wasted hopes, and severed ties. Had spared my after years ! And she on whose pale brow The damp and cold earth lies, Whose pure heart in its virgin glow Was mirrored in dark eyes ! Would I had faded soon with her, My boyhood's earliest worshipper ! Pour not the voice of woe ! Shed not a burning tear When spirits from the cold earth go. Too bright to linger here ! Unsullied let them pass Into oblivion's tomb — Like snow-flakes melting in the sea When rife with vestal bloom. Then st^^w fresh powers above the grave, And let th^ tail grafs o'ei it wave ) CHAPTER V. CHILDREN ARE TAKEN AWAY IN INFANCY FOR THE BENEFIT OP THE LIVING. The cup of life just to her lips she prest, Found the tjiste bitter, and declined the rest : Averse, then turning from the face of day, She softly sighed her infant soul away. Epitaph on an Infant. ** But for myself I bless God I have observed and felt so much mercy in this angry dispensation of God, that I am almost transported ; I am sure highly pleased with thinking how infinitely sweet his mercies are, v^hen his judgments are so gracious." — Jeremy Taylor on the loss of two children. Attention has been already called to several pas- sages of Scriplure, and to the subject of infant salva- tion, which they bring to view. In considering them, I have endeavoured to give full force to that mystery which naturally surrounds this subject, and to that grief which the death of infants awakens in the hearts of those who are called to witness it, and to endure the bitterness of consequent separation. But with the light of this heavenly revelation as a guide, I have ad- ventured into the depth of this gloomy subject, and there found, I trust, inscribed upon it words of peace and comfort — nay, even of joy. Instead of mystery, there is around it bright evidence of wisdom and good- ness: instead of cruelty, there was discovered to be mercy; and thus, instead of withdrawing our affec- tions from Him who is the arbiter of our destiny, and of the destiny of our children, it draws them towards 100 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. him with still stronger power. The removal of infants while in a state of infancy, I feel satisfied is in mercy to them. In mercy, if it is considered as affecting them temporally ; in delivering them from all the evils of this evil world, and that before they are capable of appre- hending future suffering, or lamenting over the loss of futm-e and anticipated good. And in mercy consider- ing it as it affects them eternally ; — in at once redeem- ing them from our sad inheritance of guilt and deprav- ity ; — in at once freeing them from the curse of the fall ; — rescuing them from the power of sin and Satan ; — admitting them to the privileges of the sons of God^ .and introducing them to the glorious liberty, and the blissful occupations, of the bright world on high. One half the human race are thus early taken from their parents, their home, their family and their friends, and thus cut off from the future struggles of this toil- some life, through the mercy of our God, " having an entrance administered unto them," through the impu- ted merits of the Saviour's righteousness, and in virtue of his atonement, " into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ," being washed, sanc- tified, justified, and completely redeemed. Having clean escaped the corruptions that are in this world through lust, they are made partakers of the divine na- ture, admitted to the divine presence, exalted to be ministering spirits, kings and priests unto God. Happy spirits ! who have passed through this vale of tears, ere the fountain of tears had been unsealed ; — who have journeyed through this valley of the shadow of death, while the gleam of the morning's sunshine irradiated it with joyful hope ; who encountered the last enemy of sinful man while disarmed of his sting, and disrobed of his terrors ; — and whose wliole eternity of happiness will have been vmbroken by the sorrows, the pains, and SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 101 the remorseful agonies which fall in such showers of mis- ery, upon those who linger through hfe's sad vicissitudes. " Happy, thrice happy were they thus to die, Rather than grow into such men and women, — Such fiends incarnate as that felon-sire, Who dug its grave before his child was born ; Such miserable wretches as that mother. Whose tender mercies were so deadly cruel ! I saw their infant's spirit rise to heaven. Caught from its birth up to the throne of God ; There, thousands and ten thousands, I beheld, Of innocents like this, that died untimely, By violence of their unnatural kin, Or by the mercy of that gracious Power, W^ho gave them being, taking what he gave Ere they could sin or suffer like their parents. I saw them in white raiment crown'd with flowers, On the fair banks of that resplendent river. Whose streams make glad the city of our God ; — Water of life, as clear as crystal swelling Forth from the throne itself, and visiting Fields of a Paradise that ne'er was lost ; Where yet the tree of life immortal grows. And bears its monthly fruits, twelve kinds of fruit, Each in its season, food of saints and angels ; Whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. Beneath the shadow of its blessed boughs, I mark'd those rescued infants, in their schools. By spirits of just men made perfect, taught The glorious lessons of Almighty Love, Which brought them thither in the readiest path From the world's wilderness of dire temptations Securing thus their everlasting weal. Yea, in the rapture of that hour, though songs Of cherubim to golden lyres and trumpets. And the redeem'd upon the sea of glass, With voices like the sound of many waters. Came on mine ear, whose secret cells were open'd To entertain celestial harmonies, — The small, sweet accents of those little children, Pouring out all the gladness of their souls 102 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. In love, joy, gratitude, and praises to Him, — Him, who had lov'd and wash'd them in his blood ; These were to me the most transporting strains, Amidst the hallelujah's of all Heaven. — Though lost awhile in that amazing chorus Around the throne, — at happy intervals, The shrill hosannas of the infant choir, Singing in that eternal temple, brought Tears to mine eye, whilst seraphs had been glad To weep, could they have felt the sympathy That melted all my soul, when I beheld How condescending Deity thus design'd. Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings here, To perfect his high praises ; — the harp of heaven Had lack'd its least but not its meanest string, Had children not been taught to play upon it, And sing, from feelings all their own, what men Nor angels can conceive of creatures, born Under the curse, yet from the curse redeem'd. And placed at once beyond the power to fall, — Safety which men nor angels ever knew. Till ranks of these, and all of those had fallen."* Why then, it may be asked, do such infants live at all, seeing they are thus destined to press onwards to eternity ? They live, that they may become actually existent beings ; — they live that they may become mortal ; — that they may be united to the human fam- ily ; that they may be enrolled among the citizens of earth ; — and that thus they may become heirs to all the privileges, and entitled to all the blessings provided for the race of men. By their relation to the first Adam, they are related to the second Adam. By their incorporation with Adam, in the covenant of works, they are held equally capable of all the benefits of the covenant of grace. Their first birth thus prepares them for their second birth — their entrance upon earth * See Montgomery's Pelican Island, canto vii., where he describee a heathen parent sacrificing her child. SqiiACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 103 is the commencement of their bright pathway to the skies. And being thus introduced within the pale of humanity, they are called to the endurance of suffer- ing, in order that by inheriting the curse of mortality they may thus be placed under its remedy : in order that these present light afflictions may work out for them an exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; and that through their suffering, their survivors may be benefited and improved. This is and must be the case, for if any of those who die in infancy are not chosen of God to salvation, to what are they left b}^ Him ? Is it to the impenitence and hardening influence of their hearts ? No, for they are removed before they are capable of actual sin, and of course, while incapable of despising his goodness, or taking occasion from it, to harden their hearts against Him. Is it to the consequences of Adam's sin ? No, for they shall rise again. Is it to the sufferings and penalties entailed by sin upon this evil world ? No, for God has in mercy removed them from it. Say, then, are not all who die in infancy chosen to inherit ever- lasting life through the grace of God, flowing through the atonement of Christ ? This brings me to the brief consideration of my sec- ond position, that the early removal of infants is not only in mercy to them, but also in goodness to us. Af- ter the satisfactory establishment of the first position, there will be little room for questioning the truth and certainty of the second, for if this dispensation of Prov- idence is of unquestionable mercy, considered as affect- ing infants in their temporal and eternal prospects, how can we but conclude that it is also kind in its bearing, upon ourselves. Can our interests be different from, or opposed to, those of our children ? Can they be hapgy, a^(i we miserable ofi their account? Can tjiejr wjfj?. 104 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PAREN-fS. fare be certainly and immeasurably promoted, and their parents left any reasonable ground for lamentation or regret? No ! their interests are ours ; — their happiness ours; — and their advancement ours. "If love (says Baxter) teaches us to mourn with them that mourn, and to rejoice with them that rejoice, can it be an act of rational love to mourn for them that are possessed of the highest everlasting joys ?" Oh, no ! hke Legh Richmond, we may press the hfeless remains of our de- parted child to our bosom, and in the agony of grief burst into tears, but like him let us, as we struggle with nature's anguish, exclaim, " My child is a saint in glory." We wish our children to be happy. Having been instrumental to their birth, we are solicitous for their welfare. Bearing our image, reflecting our every qual- ity, and living in our life, we feel that their comfort is one and identical with our own. And are our children happy here ; happy while called to struggle with so many infantile diseases, dangers and accidents ? Even if comparatively happy in this age, when their igno- rance is their bliss, and their very helplessness the source of their enjoyment; — will they be always so? In the very region of storms, can they escape their ravages ? — surrounded by misery, can they remain unharmed by its malignant influence? — breathing the atmosphere of pollution, can they be saved from its corruption ? — and exposed to the shipwreck of their present character and the loss of their future and everlasting hopes, where is there security for their preservation or deliverance ? " There is a death worse than the death of the body, — the death of aflfection, of reputation, of conscience, of the soul. Parental hopes may be crushed by the mis- conduct of children, more than by the closing of the grave's portals. They may live only to treasure up SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 105 wrath against the day of wrath, and hring down the grey hairs of pious parents with sorrow to the grave." The snare is before them, the pang and the sorrow, The breath of the Syren, the voice of the rod, The crime of to-day, the despair of to-morrow. And all that can sever the soul from its God. " See that son of many prayers ; he was consecrated to God in infancy. How anxiously do those Christian pa- rents watch every indication of sobriety. How ardently do they hope it may result in his salvation. What des- pondency and sinking of heart do they experience, as they behold him grow up in impenitence. He is about to leave his father's house ; his mother gives him a Bi- ble, and begs him to read it. But as he passes beyond the reach of parental restraint, he casts off fear, restrains prayer, takes his seat with the scorner, and, with the drunkard's unmeaning laugh, scoffs at the Bible, and the Bible's God. Behold him now the grief of parents, the shame of friends ; an outcast from society. Were it not for the hope that at some future period he might be overtaken by divine grace, and peradventure might repent, would it not be the spontaneous language of those afflicted parents, ' Would God, my son, that you had never been born ; would that you had died in in- fancy, ere such a measure of guilt and wrath had been treasured up against you !' And now let him be laid upon his dying bed, let all hope of his repentance be taken away ; and see him pass into eternity with all his sins upon his head, and what consolation can cheer the midnight gloom of such bereavement? Be assu- red that there is a measure of grief in that affliction, compared with which all else is nothing. When Da- vid's infant child was dead, he arose, washed, anointed 106 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. himself, and took refreshment : but when Absalom died, deep in sin and rebellion, his heart broke, and burst out in an irrepressible flood of grief, — ' O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son !' " — But are our children gone ? Have we committed them to an early grave ? Do they sleep the sleep of death ? And are they not happy ? Have I not proved that they arc happy — happy to the full extent of their capacities — happy with the perfect bhss of heaven ? O ! mourn not for the dead, The happy dead who die in infancy — Calm is their slumber in the church-yard bed, Called early from life's struggles to their rest, Ere yet to their unconscious lip was prest The mingled cup of frail humanity. Oh do not mourn for them, their lot is blest. No more confined to grov'ling scenes of night, No more sad tenants pent in mortal clay ; Now should we rather hail their glorious flight, And trace their journey to the realms of joy. We are not only desirous to see our children happy, but to have that liappiness made sure to them. This is the great struggle of earthly ambition, — the fond de- sire of parents. It is their uncertainty, their instabihty which most painfully characterizes the joys of life. " The fashion of this world passeth away." That which is of, or connected with, the earth, cannot endure. Like its own changing seasons, its own uncertain sky, its 3wn ever-varying phenomena, it abideth not. And the foresight of such coming changes, preparation for them, and the erection of some safe retreat, where we and ours may take refuge, and where our children may escape the rough adversities of life — this is the highest SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 10-7 wisdom of man. But the happiness of departed infants, is it not secure and certain ? Does it not rest on found- ations, immoveable by wind or flood ? The anchor of their hope, is it not within the vail ? The foundation of their joye, does it not rise in the paradise of God? The tenure of their bliss, is it not guaranteed by the promise and the oath of Him who cannot lie,— who will not deny himself, and who is the same, yesterday, to- day, and forever ? It is. And let then even reason itself teach us to submit, and to rejoice in hope. The Kev. J. S. Meissner, Moravian missionary in Labrador, observes, " We have known what it is to mourn over the loss of beloved children, having accom- panied two to their resting-place during our service in this distant land. I was once standing by the grave of my departed children, under a brilliant sun and cloud- less sky, when suddenly a light shadow passed over the green turf. Looking up for the cause, I beheld a snow- white gull winging her lofty flight through the air. The thought immediately struck me— Thus it is with the dear objects of my mournful remembrance. Here indeed lies the shadow, but above is the living principle. Nor was the reflection without comfort to my wounded spirit, since of such is the kingdom of heaven." But again, we have made some tolerable provision for the security of the future happiness of our children, our next desire is to see them in such a situation as will give the promise of its permanence. So long as they remain within the years of immaturity, while they are unfixed in their destiny, or unsettled in their earth- ly relations, however ample maybe the provision for their comfort, there is still connected with them the deepest solicitude. Andif ever there is atime whena. parent should be willing to eay, '' Now^ Lord, letteeti Thou thv servant departin peace,'4t is whenhebeholds 108 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. his childreiij one after another, choosing the path of up- rightness and piety, and all settled down, each in hig own homestead, and all together walking in peaceful and affectionate harmony. But over the most peace- ful establishment of sublunary and domestic bliss, how many fitful clouds portentously roll on the thunder ; and with what ruthless ferocity have we seen death enter the limits of such a happy community, and con- vert it into one wide waste of deserted ruin. But the infant dead ! is their happiness not permanent, and un- changeable, incorruptible, undefiled, and such as can- not fade away ? The infant dead ! — are they not set- tled for eternity, made immortally blessed, and far, far, and for ever, removed from all the sources of sorrow and of change ? Instead, therefore, of indulging in those vain regrets, which suit those only who never look above earth's bounded scene, and centre all their treasures here, let us cherish feelings of resignation, thankfulness and hope. Let me not mourn, that thou wilt be A tenant of the sky, — Escaped from life's tumultuous sea, And frail mortality. When storms arise, and tempests blow, No adverse gale thy bark shall know. Let me rejoice, to think that thou Hast early joined the blest ; Before thy youthful heart could know, Aught to disturb its rest, — Before earth's chilling storms had given, A blight to fruit prepared for heaven, " One of the bitterest pangs too, which a parent can experience when about to die, is the thought that he leaves his children in an evil and dangerous world, un- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 109 certain what will be their conduct and destiny. While with the utmost confidence he can leave all the tem- poral allotments of his fatherless children with God, he cannot but feel some sorrow and foreboding at heart, in view of the uncertainty which overhangs their future prospects as moral beings, who are to act, choose, and decide for themselves. That uncertainty he escapes, who, before his own departure, sees his children secure- ly laid in their best home and refuge. Once he might have mourned, and said of him who he had hoped would have been his solace and joy, ' How is the strong staff broken, the beautiful rod !'— But now as he thinks of the uncertain conflict to which he would have been exposed, with the temptations and dangers of a wicked world, he is grateful that the blessed Jesus holds the keys of life and death, and that, hke the skilful gar- dener, whose experienced eye detects the approaching storm, and who knows when to hide the lily in its nar- row bed. He knows when to put his Uttle ones secure from the storm and tempest." Yes— if I have not sacrificed all other claims to thine. Surrendered with a selfish love, because that thou wert mine, I still may hope to feel that bliss within my soul revive,^ Which never in this yearning heart will languish while I May hear thy unforgotten voice join the archangel's song, And know my own beloved one, amidst a holy throng, May see thee, by the light that breaks the shadows of the tomb, A portion of my happiness in the bright worid to come ! They are gone — never to return ! — Where we now are, they can never more be. The home of their in- fancy they will never re-visit. Their baby couch they will never again press. The bosom which first beat for them, with the wild ecstacy of maternal love, they TO 110 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. will never, oh ! never embrace. The sound of their happy lullaby we shall never again hear. Nor shall we ever again reciprocate a parent's nameless joys. The heavenly sweetness of those countenances unfur- ix)wed by care or guilt, we shall never more gaze upon, nor shall we listen, in wrapt dehght, to the infant prat- tle, or feel the throbbing of the joyful heart as we hear from their infant voices the loved name of father, or of mother. It is true, my bereaved friend, they are gone ; but it is also true that all soHcitude is gone ; — and while we look down the coming future, and see it as dark with storms as the troubled past, and as full of fiery trial as the present, we feel no consciousness of alarm for those who are now safely housed in their home in the skies, " To grieve us even for our profit is not the sole reason why they are consigned to an early grave. This is the passage by which even they must be brought into the presence of God, and this is the time when he pleases to call for them. How ani- mating the thought, that those powers which were but beginning to unfold themselves, are now expanding, and employed amid the glories of the heavenly para- dise. Whether they were spared for a season, and mul- tiplied attractions and endearments, or were cut off from the womb, and had the allotment which Job so passionately wished had been his, the same end has been answered. Their short-lived existence on earth, may appear as a kind of blank, but God does nothing in vain. Their life below, short as it was, has served to introduce the eternal state, as well as the life of the hoary headed patriarch. At the same time, their death by its effects will impress a character on the eternity of surviving witnesses, relatives, and friends. Let b^ reaved parents then say, * It is well with the child/ * It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth good in hi^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Ill* sight.' He who wept at the grave of Lazarus, hath hallowed the tears of affection, but he forbids us to sorrow, as if there were no hope. While you weep as nature feels, and indeed ought to feel, for otherwise the providence could not profit you, beware of nurs- ing melancholy, and cherishing a morbid sensibiUty. May not the child say to you, ' If ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I have got home to my father.' If the hope of going to the Saviour animates your heart, is not the thought, that the happy spirit will ' never return to you,' in this evil world, likewise fraught with consolation ? ' Staying only to wash away its native impurity in the laver of regeneration, it bade a speedy adieu to time and terrestrial things — just looked on the light, and then withdrew into the more inviting regions of undisturbed repose. — Happy voyager ! no sooner launched, than arrived at the haven.' No one acquainted with the works of this evangehcal writer will suppose that he identifies regen- eration with an external rite. He obviously refers to that change of heart which is indispensably necessary in order to the enjoyment of the kingdom of heaven." And these helpless innocents — oh ! how do they steal upon the heart — how insensibly do they entwine themselves around us ! — how irresistibly do they en- gross the thoughts, and call forth pride and vanity, and selfishness, and an overfondness of inordinate regard ! Like the slender creeping vine, do they attach them- selves to us — lean helplessly upon us — drink in, fwm our joy, all their merriment — throw around us their fragrance and beauty — but, like it, do they oftentimes insidiously cramp the growth of piety, and drink up the essential aUment of godliness. And if God has transplanted them to his own heavenly vineyard, and by so doing, restored our souls to health and prosperity ; 112 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. should we not rejoice in that tribulation which worketh out for us such peaceful fruits of righteousness ? We may lament as an incurable evil, what God esteems an invaluable good. Our prayers and energies may be excited to agony in warding off a storm which it is his purpose shall come down upon us in all its fury. We watch at the couch of a languishing child : our life is bound up in his ; if it die it seems to us God must de- sign to undo us, and yet, perhaps, that child was given us that it might die in our arms and be the means of our sanctification. Sixteen years after such an afflic- tion, a father says, " I have found the loss of my child, which is the greatest cross I ever met with, hath been blessed to the good of my soul." As a good woman once said, " Bearing my children and my crosses has cost me dear, but I would not be without either. It is not fit that I should choose my affliction, what God lays on me is welcome, and I will esteem Christ no worse for his cross ; for I find these bitter waters most medicinal, and the sweetest fruit grows on this bitter tree." Thou, then, pale mourner o'er an infant's bier, Brighten thy cheek, and dry the trick' ling tear ; This came, though veiled in darkness from above, A dispensation of eternal love ! He who perceived the dangerous controul. The heart-twined spell was gaining on thy soul, Snatch'd from thine arms the treacherous decoy To give thee brighter hope, and purer joy. Should we, however, have been enabled to preserve our hearts from too excessive fondness for the creature, have we guarded them as faithfully against all the other seductions of this spiritual idolatry 7 Have we given our hearts, and the supremacy of our thoughts, purposes and desires to the business of fife, to the many cares of the household, to the heaping up of riches, to SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 113 the enjoyment of pleasure, or to any other creature — more than to God, to rehgion and to things divine? And if it was thus with us, were we not closing up all intercourse between our souls and God ; shutting out the light of Heaven ; obscuring the pathway to ever- lasting life ; and thus fast gathering around our souls the dark shadoAV of despair. Was it not, then, merci- ful in that God we were thus putting far from us, to visit us with some touching bereavement, and thus waken us to our dangerous position? "A mother s employed during a score of months, in rearing to in- telHgence a lovely babe ; but at the juncture when it begins to reciprocate her smiles, when it had entirely entwined her heart, had become an essential ingredient in her cup of blessings, she wakes and finds herself embracing a lump of lifeless clay. All distress and darkness, she inquires, Why did it not perish in the birth? Why could it not have died when I loved it less ? Why must it live till a mother cannot survive its death? And yet perhaps this very event is the means of snatching the mother from perdition."* " Why do the loveliest of earth. The soonest pass away — Like radiant flowers of summer birth The earliest to decay? •' They come like angel forms to bless Our visions for a while, They make our daily burden less-^ And half our tears beguile. " They grow so deeply in our hearts, We make them idols there ; 'Till God in love asunder parts — The ties which bind them here. Clark's Works, vol. i. p. 304. in* 114 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. " 'Tis thus He 3hides us that we love The creatures more than God • To fit our souls for rest above — He chastens with his rod!" " There is something pleasing in this fact : that every infant that you lose is a link that binds you to the grave, on the one hand, and a link also that binds you to eternity on the other. A portion of yourself has taken possession of the tomb, to remind you that you must lie down there, A soul that was related to yourself has taken possession of eternity, to remind you that you must enter there. Our bodies are, through our infants, in communion with the dust ; and our spirits, through theirs, with the everlasting throne. We are so disposed to strike our roots into this fading and fainting earth, that it becomes mercy on the part of God to send those chastisements, which loosen our affections from a world doomed to flame. Each infant that we lose is a tie (holy and happy truth !) less to bind us to this w^orld, and a tie more to bind our hearts to that better world where our infants have preceded us. It is thus God gradually loosens the tree before it falls. Death thus loses half its pain before it overtakes ns. Happy truth, if we reahze it ! Happy lesson, if we feel it ! Good and gracious is that Father, who thus preaches to His people from the infant's bier, when they will not learn the lesson which they need from His ambassadors in the pulpit !" And that such may be the result, we are encouraged to hope from the follow- ing fact. Several years ago, said the Rev. Mr. G., I was called to attend the funeral of a child five years of age. She had sickened and died suddenly. The father I knew not, except that he was an infidel. This child had at- tended my Sabbath school, and she had left behind SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 116 some interesting conversation with several members of the church. This, after the child had died, was com- municated to the bereaved mother for her consolation. At the funeral the mother appeared more deeply inter- ested in the subject of her own salvation than that of the loss of her child. The next Sabbath this family- were at my meeting and requested prayers that their affliction might be sanctified. They continued to at- tend meeting, Sabbath after Sabbath, and on the fifth Sabbath, the father became hopefully pious. Soon after this his wife became pious, and then a sister, and then a young lady residing in the family ; and the fa- ther, mother, sister, and young lady, all, on the same Sabbath, made a public profession of their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That father is now a pillar in the Church. This great change in that family was produced instru mentally by the death of that child ! Who will say this dear child lived and died in vain ? Will not many an aged Chiistian have fewer gems to brighten their crowns of rejoicing, than will this babe in Christ ? " That hfe is long which answers life's great end." We are too ready, notwithstanding all the admoni- tions we receive, to connect prolonged existence with the period of life and the quantum of health : and thus are thousands kept in a trance-like indifference to the urgent calls of death and eternity. And surely if aught beside the dread reahty of that hour of doom, and that after judgment of which it is the prelude, can break this delusive, this soul-destroying spell, it is when we behold death lay the grasp of his icy fingers upon some moving form of youth and beauty, and in the very ful- ness of exuberant and ruddy health, consign it to the tomb. Here surely, Oh man ! you cannot but be taught, that youth, or strength, or health, are np bar- 116 SOLACE FOR BEREAVKl) l'ARi:XTS. rier to the approach of death, and that in this warfare there is no retreat and no victory. In this matter all are equal, all alike mortal, and all alike destined to death, and to that "judgment which is after death!" So that the highest, as well as the lowest, the richest, as well as the poorest, must bow to the stroke of bereave- ment, of affliction, and of death. How forcibly was this truth taught in the case of the Princess Charlotte : A throne on earth awaited thee, A nation long'd to see thy face : Heir to a glorious ancestry, And father of a mightier race. Vain hope ! — that throne thou must not fill ; Thee shall that nation ne'er behold ; Thine ancient house is heirless still ; Thy line will never be unroll'd. Yet while we mourn thy flight from earth, Thine was a destiny sublime : Caught up to Paradise in birth — Snatch'd by Eternity from Time. The mother knew her ofl^spring dead : Oh ! was it grief, or was it love That broke her heart ? The spirit fled To seek her nameless child above. Led by this natal star, she trod, His path to Heav'n ; the meeting there, And how thej'- stood before their God, The day of judgment shall declare. Again, how constantly do we find ourselves associat- ing the guilt and the danger of sin with open and gross enormities, to the entire forgetfulness of the truth, that after all sin lies in the heart — that this is its fountain — and that from its enmity to God^ and aversion to ho- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 117 liness, proceed all other transgressions. Oh, what a rebuke does God give to this delusion of Satan, by which thousands are ensnared in the net of perdition, when he brings death, the effect of sin, and the demon- stration of His infinite hatred of sin, even upon infants ! For if they, who have not sinned personally, are made to suffer the curse of a violated law, how shall those escape who, to all the guilt of original corruption, have added all the blackness of their own voluntary iniquity, and their own perverse rejection of mercy ? How willingly too, do men deceive their hearts and sustain themselves in a course of sin, by interpreting that goodness and long-sufferance of God by which ke would " lead them to repentance," into an indifference to the conduct of his creatures. Approach, deluded mor- tals, to that infant bed ! There lies an innocent and helpless nursling in the convulsive throes of death. Un- avaihng to its relief are a mother's prayers, or a phy- sician's help. Bold infidelity, say wherefore is it so ? Is God so over-willing to repent himof his threatenings, as you say he is ? Is God so reckless of offences ; is God so willing to pass by unatoned transgression as you aver he is ? Wherefore, then, does he thus inflict even on this helpless babe the awful curse pronounced on man thousands of years ago ? Miserable men ! who remember not that God " treasures up wrath against the day of wrath, and his righteous revelation agamst every son of man who doeth evil ; and that the wicked shall be turned into hell witli all who forget God." To unbelieving and unconverted parents, therefore, the death of their infants speaks in solemn and impres- sive tones. Surely such parents " are summoned by their best feelings to the cross. Thougli they are guilty of violating God's law, and yet more in refusing God's gospel, their infants, if lost during the period of infancy, 118 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. are not suffering the consequences of their parents' guilt ; they rest from their tears, they are snatched from the contagion of their company. Here is mercy to their souls as well as mercy to their bodies. Their infants are in perennial peace ; but if the parents die unsaved, unsanctified, untransformed, unrenewed, a yawning chasm must separate them from their infants for ever and ever. Theirs will be the joy, but yours, unconvert- ed reader, must be the sadness ; theirs the blessing, but yours for ever the conscious and consuming curse. No interchange of love shall ever cross the gulf that sev- ers you. The stroke that severs you in time severs you in eternity also." Such then are the lessons taught by this dispensa- tion of providence, by which God would admonish, and instruct us, and by which, these afflictions, light com- pared with what they might be, and with what we de- serve, and hght contrasted with the whole duration of our being, may work out for us an exceeding and eter- nal weight of glory. And when we duly consider the necessity and importance of these truths and their bearing upon our present and everlasting interest ; — and to their consideration add the delightful assurance that it is well with our departed infants, can we not confidently and triumphantly say that they are thus early removed in mercy to them, and in kindness to us ? Is not the bitterness of their death thus removed, and its sting extracted ? Can we not with Job say, " the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord ?" Can we not with Aaron ex- claim, " It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth to him good ?" Can we not with David rejoicingly declare, "They cannot come to us, but we can go to them?" Yes, we can go to them. " They are not lost, but gone before." There in that world of light, and love, and SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 119 joy, they await our coming. There do they beckon us to ascend. There do they stand ready to welcome us. There may we meet them, when a few more suns or seasons shall have cast their departing shadows upon our silent grave. Then shall our joy be full and our sorrows ended^ and all tears wiped from our eyes. Oh ! when a mother meets on high, The child she lost in infancy ; Hath she not then for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrows, all her tears. An over payment of delight ? Death separates, but it can never disunite those who are bound together in Christ Jesus. To them, death in this power of an endless separation, is abolished. It is no more death, but a sweet departure, a journey from Earth to Heaven. Our children are still ours. We are still their parents. We are yet one family — one in memory — one in hope — one in spirit. Our children are yet with us, and dwell with us in our sweetest, fondest recollections. We too, are yet with them, in the bright anticipations of our reunion with them, in the glories of the upper sanctuary. We mingle together indeed no more in sorrow and in pain. But we shall join love's buried ones again In endless bands, and in eternal peace. Blessed and glorious hope, and blessed and glorious gospel by which it is inspired I I have gloried in thee, but never as I do now. I have found thee precious, but never as precious as now. I have hoped in thy word, and stayed myself on thy promises, and exulted in thy immortal hopes, but never aught as now. When I stood a fond parent, surrounded by my little ones, growing up in their «weet loveliness around me, 120 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. my future delight, my future helpmates and compan- ions, I rejoiced in the sunshine which this heavenly gospel threw around me. But when I stood bereft of these loved ones — when I saw them cold in the speech- lessness of death — when I put them both together in their clayey bed, there to sleep the sleep of death — when my heart shuddered to think that there they Avould lie exposed to winter's storms and the summer's torrid heat — then did thy cheerful promise, span as with a bow of hope my dreary darkness, sustain my sinking heart, and enable me, even with death, and its liorrid desolations before me, triumphantly to exclaim " Oh death where is thy sting, oh grave where is thy victory ! thanks be to God who giveth me the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ !" And here let me commend, especially to bereaved parents, this " balm for wounded spirits." Clasp it, sorrowing mourner, t3 your bosom. Receive it into your inmost heart. Treasure it as your pearl of greatest price. Seek it as your first and greatest object of pursuit. Buy it at whatever cost. Sell it — no, not for worlds. Heaven is not only our home, our rest, our heaven— it is now the home of our children — it is our common inheritance. Let it then be the prize of our liigh calling. Towards it let us press. To it let us continually ascend. For it let us diligently prepare, that when our earthly house of this tabernacle is taken down, we may have a build- ing of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. For oil! that star of mora still beams With light to direct my feet, There ,when I have done with my earthly dreams. The parent and child may meet. "It may be," as Cotton Mather observes, ^' your af- fliction is the loss of children. Well, have you not SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 121 read such a message sent to a godly man, as that in 1 Sam. ii. 33. ' The son of thine whom I shall not cut off, shall be to consume thine eyes, and to grieve thine heart.' It is possible that, if thy child had lived, it might have made thee the father of a fool, or (that I may speak to the sex that is most unable to bear this trial) the mother of a shame. It is a very ordinary thing for one living child to occasion more trouble than ten dead ones. However, your spiritual interests may be exceedingly injured by the temporal delights which you desire ; you may rue what you wish, because it may be an idol, which will render your souls like the ' bar- ren heath in the wilderness before the Lord.' It was the very direful calamity of the ancient Israelites, in Psalm cvi. 15. ' The Lord gave them their request, but sent leanness into their souls.' A lean soul, a wretched soul, a soul pining away in its iniquities, is oftentimes the effect of those fine things which we dote upon. It is a blasted soul that sets up a creature in the room, on the throne of the great God, that gives unto a creature those affections and cares which are due unto the great God alone. Such idolatry the soul is tQO frequently by prosperity seduced into. We are told, in Prov. i. 32. ' The prosperity of fools destroys them ;' many a fool is thus destroyed. O fearful case ! A full table and a lean soul ! A high title and a lean soul ! A numerous posterity and a soul even like the kine in Pharaoh's dream ! Madness is in our hearts if we tremble not at this ; soul calamities are sore calam- ities." " Let not then the death of your children cause any inconsolable grief The loss of children did I say — nay, let me recal so harsh a word. The children we count lost, are not so. The death of our children is 11 122 SOLACE P^OR BEREAVED PARENTS. not the loss of ouu children. They are not lost, but given back ; they are not lost, but sent before. " Well, this is the calamity which many of you at some time or other have experienced ; the death of children is a thing in which the children of Jacob sel- dom escape a resemblance of their father. Many carry themselves under the trial, as if a death of virtue, yea, as if a death of reason had befallen them ; but recol- lect yourselves, O dejected Christians, and be not like them that mourn without hope this day. Let bereav- ed parents be still believing parents ; the voice of the great God that formed all things is unto them, as in Jer. xiii. 16. ' Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears, for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the Lord.' Let the thoughts which have been set before us compose and settle our minds under this affliction. Let us not say, this thing is against us ; but let us say, ' the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." It is indeed very true, that this alliiclion is none of the most easy to be borne ; the heart of a parent will have pe- culiar passions working in it, at such a time as this, though there be greater sorrows than those with which we follow a child unto the grave ; i bless God it is a more bitter thing to say, my sin is mighty ; or to say, my soul is guilty, than it is to say. my child is dead ; that moan, ' I have pierced my Saviour,' is more heart- wounding, than to mourn as one mourneth for a first- born. Yet few outward, earthly anguishes are equal unto these. The dying of a child is Hke the tearing of a hmb from us. But O remember, that if ever we had any grace in our souls, we have ere this willingly plucked out a right eye, and cut olT a right hand, for the sake of God. Why should we not then, at the call of God, readily part with a limb, and leave him SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 123 room to say, ' Now I know that thou feaiest me, be- cause thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from Me.' It was from God that we received those dear pledges, our children, and it is to God that we re- turn them. We cannot quarrel with our God, if about those loans he say unto us. Give them up ; you have had them long enough 1 We knew what they were when first we took them into our arms ; we knew that they were potsherds, that tliey were mortals, that the worms which sometimes kill them, or at least will eat them, are but their name-sakes ; and that a dead child is a sight no more surprising than a l^roken pitcher or a blasted flower. " But we did not, we do not know, what they might be, in case they were continued among the living on the earth. We cannot tell whether our sons would prove as plants grown up in their youth, and our daughters as corner stones polished after the similitude of a palace ; or, whether our sons might not, like Isaac's son, do those things that would be ' a grief of mind unto us,' and our daughters, like Jephtha's daughter, be of them that trouble us. Christians, let us be content that our wise and good God should choose our portion for us ; he will appoint us none but a goodly heritage. Our temptation is no more than what is common to men, yea, and to good men. The greatest part of those human spirits, that are now beholding the face of God in glory, are such as dv/elt in the children of pious peo- ple, departed in their infancy. And what have we to say, why we should not undergo it as well as they. Was the infant whose decease we deplore, one that was very pretty, one that had pretty features, pretty speech- es, pretty actions ? Well, at the resurrection of the just we shall see it again ; the Lord Jesus will deal with our dead children as the prophets Elijah and Elisha did by 124 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. those wliom they raised of old ; he will bring them to us, recovered from the pale jaws of death ; and how amiable, how beautiful, how comely they will then be, no tongue is able to express, or heart to conceive ! Though their beauty consume in the grave, yet it shall be restored, it shall be increased, when they shall put off their bed-clothes in the morning of the day of God. " Again ; was the infant now lamented, very sudden- ly snatched away, and perhaps awfully too ! not merely by a convulsion, but by scalding, by burning, by drown- ing, by shooting, by stabbing, or by some unusual harm ? Truly it is often so, that the quicker the death the bet- ter. It is more desirable for our children to feel but a few minutes of pain, than it is for them to lie groaning in those exquisite agonies which would cause us even ourselves to wish that the Lord would take them out of their misery. As for any more grievous and signal circumstance attending our dying children, our best course will be to have it said of us, ' they ceased ; say- ing. The will of the Lord be done !' As the love oi wrath of God is not certainly declared in, so our grief before him should not be too much augmented by, such things as these. And it is a favour, if so much as one of our children be left alive unto us. Let not the sense of one trouble swallow up the sense of a thousand mercies. Tlie mother from whom a violent death has taken one of her two children, may immedi- ately embrace the other and say, ' Blessed be God who has left me this.' " But once more ; is the deceased infant an only child ? Are we now ready to sigh — All is gone ! Nay, thou hast but a poor all, if this were all. I hope thy only child is not thy only joy. If thou hast ever experienced the new birth, the sense of thy soul is, one Jesus is worth ten children ; yea, one Christ is worth ten SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 125 worlds. What though all thy candles are put out! The sun, the sun of righteousness is arising to thy soul for ever. An undone man art thou indeed ! thou hast thy little glass of water spilt or spoilt, while thou hast a fountain, a living fountain running by thy door ! The blessed God calls thee, ray child ; and that is infinitely better than a name of sons and of daugh- ters. " Finally. Have we any doubts about the eternal salvation of the children which we have buried out of our sight? Indeed as to grown children, there is often too sad cause of suspicion or sohcitude ; and yet here, the sovereign disposals of God must be submitted to. Besides, though it may be we could not see such plain marks and signs of grace in our adult children as we could have wished for, nevertheless they might have the root of the matter in them. There are many serious, gracious, well-inclined young people, who conceal from every body the evidences of their repentance, and the instances of their devotion. You cannot tell what the Lord did for the souls of your poor children before he took them out of the world. Per- haps they sought, they found mercy at the last. The child of a good parent is not to be despaired of, though turned off the gallows. « But as to young children, the fear of God will take away all matter of scruple in the owners of them. Parents, can you not sincerely say, that you have chosen God in Christ for the best portion, as of your- selves, so of your children? Answer this: if your children had been spared unto you, would it not have been your care to have them brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord ? Would you not have used all prayers and pains to have them engaged unto the service of the living God, and unto a just aversion ir 126 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. to all the vile idols and vain courses of the world ? Then be of good cheer : your children are in a better place, a bet- ter state, than you yourselves are yet arrived unto. The faithful God hath promised, I will be their God, as well as thy God. O say, This is all my desire, though the Lord suffer not my house to grow. Those dear chil- dren are gone from your kind arms, into the kinder arms of Jesus, and this is by far the best of all to have children this day in heaven. Truly this is an honour which neither you nor I are worthy of. But so it is : the King of kings hath sent for our children to confer a kingdom on them. They are gone from a dark vale of sin and shame ; they are gone into the land of light, and life, and love ; there they are with the spir- its of just men made perfect; there they serve the Lord day and night in his temple, having all tears wiped from their eyes ; and from thence methinks I hear them crying aloud unto us, ' As well as you love us we would not be with you again : weep not for us, but for yourselves, and count not yourselves at home till you come to be, as we are, for ever with the Lord.' " I have done. The fit epitaph of a dead infant (that, that alone is enough to be the solace of a sad parent), is, ' Of such is the kingdom of heaven.' "* To you who are still the parents of living children, or who may be such, let me say, Take heed and be- ware of regarding as your own, what is entrusted to you hy the liord, and /or the Lord. Look upon your children as immortals — as passing, you know not how rapidly — to the world beyond. While provident of their present wants and temporal comforts, make their heavenly welfare your chief concern. Let your laia- guage be that of the poet. • Right Thoughts in Sad Hours. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 127 Dear cherished babes, if you should have To travel far alone, And weep by turns at many a grave Before you reach your own ; May he who bade you weep, be nigh To wipe away your tears, And point you to a world on high. Beyond these mournful years. Yet if it be his holy will, I pray, that hand in hand, We all may travel many a hill Of this the pilgdm land. With Zion's shining gate in view Through every danger rise. And form a family anew Unbroken in the skies. Again, w^ouid I remind you of the uncertain tenor by which you hold you children, friends, and all earthly blessings. The days of darkness will come upon you. Through much tribulation you must enter the king- dom of God. As a general, when he is suddenly over- taken by an overpowering enemy, or by the inclement frosts of winter, falls back into some well garrisoned and impregnable fortress, until the enemy has gone and his strength has increased— so, let me advise you, to have these hopes and comforts of the gospel understanding- ly and thoroughly fixed in your memory ; and con- stantly preserved in your frequent meditation; that when met by some sudden and overw^ helming visita- tion, you may not find yourself exposed, shelterless and alone, to the pitiless peltings of the storm, but may at once take refuge under this safe covert until the tempest be overpast. And may God in infinite mercy fit and prepare us all for the issues and events of life, for the hour of death and the day of judgment. 128 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTJa ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. In heart divided, and in spirit rent, Who could forbid a mother to lament? Death ! thou dread looser of the dearest tie, Was there no aged and no sick one nigh ? No languid wretch who long'd, but long'd in vain For thy cold hand to cool his fiery pain 1 And was the only victim thou couldst find. An infant on its mother's arms reclin'd ? But 'tis thy way to pass the ripest by, And cause the flowers and buds of life to die ; Full many a flow'r is scatter'd by the breeze, And many a blossom shaken from the trees, And many a morning beam in tempest flies, And many a dew-drop shines awhile and dies : But oftener far, the dreams that fancy weaves, Of future joy and happiness, deceives. And thou pale mourner, o'er an infant's bier, Brighten thy cheek, and dry the trickling tear ; This came, though veil'd in darkness, from above^ A dispensation of eternal love ! He who perceiv'd the dangerous controul. The heart-twin'd spell was gaining on thy soul, Snatch'd from thine arms the treacherous decoy, To give thee brighter hope and purer joy. Oh ! see how soon the flow'rs of life decay, How soon terrestrial pleasures fade away. This star of comfort, for a moment giv'n. Just rose on earth, then set to rise in heav'i Yet mourn not, as of hope bereft, its doom. Nor water with thy tears its early tomb ; Redeem'd by God from sin, releas'd from pain, Its life were punishment, its death were gain. Turn back thine eye along the path of life, View thine own grief, and weariness and strife : And say, if that which tempts thee to repine, Be not a happier lot by far than thine. If death in infancy had laid thee low. Thou hadst escap'd from pain^ and sin, and woe ; The years thy soul the path of sorrow trod. Had all been spent in converse with thy God ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 129 And thou hadst shone in yonder cloudless sphere, A seraph there, and not a pilgrim here. O ! it is sweet to die, — to part from earth,— And win all heav'n for things of little worth ; Then sure thou wouldst not, though thou couldst awake The little slumberer, for its mother's sake. It is when those we love, in death depart, That earth has slightest hold upon the heart. Hath not bereavement higher wishes taught, And purified from earth, thine earth-born thought? I know it hath. Hope then appears more dear, And heaven's bright realms shine brightest through a tear. Though it be hard to bid thy heart divide, And lay the gem of all thy love aside — Faith tells thee, and it tells thee not in vain, That thou shalt meet thine infant yet again. On seraph wings, the new-born spirit flies. To brighter regions and serener skies ; And, ere thou art aware, the day may be When to those skies thy babe shall welcome thee. While yet on earth, thine ever-circling arms Held it securest from surrounding harms ; Yet even there, disease could aim her dart. Chill the warm cheek, and stop the fluttering heart. And many a fruitless tear-drop thou hast paid, To view the sickness that thou couldst not aid. No ill can reach it now, it rests above. Safe in the bosom of celestial love : Its short but yet tempestuous way is o'er. And tears shall trickle down its cheek no more. Then far be grief ! Faith looks beyond the tomb, And heav'n's bright portals sparkle through the gloom. If bitter thoughts and tears in heav'n could be, It is thine infant that should weep for thee. ON THE DEATH OP MY SON. My little one, my fair one, are then thy troubles o'er ? And has thy slight and feeble bark arrived at Canaan's shore ? ^0 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Hast thou at length a haven reached, where thou can anchor fast? And heed no more the pehing storm, the billow or the blast? My little one, my fair one, though brief thy course has been, Few days of sunshine cheered thee on, few smiling coasts were seen ; It seemed as o'er thy shallop frail the raven flapped his wing, _ _ ^ - _ And scared the bright and halcyon tribes, which might thine advent sing. My littler-one, my fair one, thy couch is empty now. Where oft I wiped the dews away, which gathered on thy brow ; No more amidst the sleepless night I smooth thy pillow fair, Tis smooth indeed, but rest no more thy small pale features there. My little one, my fair one, thy tiny carriage waits. But waits in vain to bear thy form through yon inviting gates ; Where bloom the flowers as erst they did, when thou couldst cull their sweets. But roams in vain thy father's eye, no answering glance it meets. My little one, my fair one, thy lips were early trained To lisp that gracious Saviour's name, who ail thy guilt sustained : Nor would I weep because my Lord has snatched my gourd away, To blossom bright, and ripen fair, in realms of endless day. My little one, my fair one, thou canst not come to me, But nearer draws the numbered hour, when I shall go to thee. And thou, perchance, with seraph smile, and golden harp in hand, May' St come the first to welcome me, to our Emmanuel's land! SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 131 A FATHER'S REFLECTIONS ON THE BIRTH OF A SON. PRESIDENT DAVIES. Now thou art born into an anxious state Of dubious trial for thy future fate ; Now thou art listed in the war of life, The prize immense; and, oh! severe the strife: Another birth awaits thee, when the hour Arrives, that lands thee on the immortal shore, (And oh ! 'tis near, with winged haste 'twill come, Thy cradle rocks towards the neighbouring tomb), Then shall the immortals shout, " A son is born," Whilst thcG, as dead, mistaken mortals mourn. From glory then, to glory thou shalt rise, Or sink from deep, to deeper miseries ; Ascend perfection's everlasting scale, Or still descend from gulph to gulph in hell. Thou embryo angel, or thou infant fiend! A being now begun, but ne'er to end, What boding fears a father's heart torment. Trembling and anxious for the grand event. Lest the young soul so late by heaven bestowed, Forget his father, and forget his God ; Lest while imprisoned in this house of clay. To tyrant lusts he falls a helpless prey ; And, lest descending still from bad to worse. His immortality should prove his curse. Maker of souls ' avert so dire a doom, Oi' snatch him back to native nothing's gloom< CHAPTER VI. SELECTIONS IN PROSE, CONFIRMATORY AND ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE PRECEDING VIEWS. The heart that has not known the hour When Grief could bid it bow, Or seen that looks and words have power To cloud the brightest brow, 'Twere vain to torture with a song So sorrowful as mine ; Leave such to pant amid the throng That crowd life's gilded shrine. But ye who suffer — who have felt The destiny of earth, That Death with shadowy hand hath dealt Rebuke amid your mirth ; To you this tribute of a word, When other sounds have fled, Will come like loved tones faintly heard : — The Memory of the Dead. STATE OF INFANTS IN HEAVEN.* My Dear Friend, — You desired some thoughts upon the existence and employments of the spirit of an infant in the heavenly world ; and although there is not much said in Scripture upon the subject, yet, doubt- less, many a pious mother, whilst shedding the tear of parental affection over her departed little one, has been anxious to trace that spirit into the regions of everlast- ing happiness and glory. That there are different de- grees of glory it cannot be questioned, if you look at several passages of Scripture, such as the following : — * From the Evangelical Magazine. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 133 Rev. xxi. 10 — 17 ; James v. 10 ; Daniel xii. 3 ; Matt, xiii. 43 ; 1 Cor. xv. 41 ; Rev. vii. 13—17. From these passages, we may gain the assurance that this is the case, and that will be sufficient to allay every fear of the doubting mind. " I saw a little baby breathe its last." One evening, I had just sat down to read, when some person knocked at the door, and Mr. entered to inform me his baby, to all appearance, was near death. Immediately I went down stairs, and soon perceived the interesting little object could not exist many hours. At such a time, how affecting was the scene ! Parents, servants, and friends waiting to see the change. Their thoughts seemed called away from every thing earthly. The parents were wrapt up in the thought, " We shall see our child no more." I marked the sovereignty of God. He does according to his will, independently and irre- sistibly, without giving an account of his matters any further than he pleases. He does nothing without the best reasons, whether those reasons be disclosed to his creatures or not. All his pleasure, all his determina- tions are perfectly wise and good, founded on the best of all reasons, and directed to the best purposes. It was very affecting to see the approach of death in one so young. Her struggles were soon ovei'. I watched un- til I fancied I saw the soul depart, but it was a spirit. 'Twas not flesh. It escaped from the body, and was in a moment translated and introduced to a world of spirits. How amazing the change ! how incomprehensible ! It was made a little lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honour. It was a wonderful change, if we only contemplate its introduction to angels. At the moment that soul entered their presence, its facul« 12 134 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ties were enlarged, its knowledge increased, its mind expanded to a wonderful degree. It lives in ever-bloom- ing youth, highly-favoured, exalted and happy, destined to survive and triumph when this universe will be de- stroyed. It will exist for ever and ever. That little being which, while in this world, was incapable of em- ploying itself, is now, in its character, complete. It is possessed of attributes divine : all these are angelic and heavenly. Its employments are numerous, and all be- coming its station. The world could not furnish ma- terials for the composition of such an angelic character. It is perfectly free from fault, impurity, and defect. It has escaped all the troubles of life, and will never meet with any thing that will prove an alloy. Its pleasures are unfading, and every tear is wiped away. But how astonishing that this httle being should be introduced into the presence of God ! that Being, whose power can, in a moment, crush the proudest monarch, and who possesses an essential glory to which our imaginations cannot extend, and a sublimity of character which is elevated above the utmost stretch of thought. But when he took upon himself our nature, and lived in our world, he said, " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heav- en." She dwells in his presence, is near his throne, and sits at his feet. Increasing praises dwell upon her lips ; boundless perfection constitutes her felicity. Her holi- ness is for ever perfected. Her affections are made to flow in ever-during channels towards the source of in- finite perfection. Her knowledge is expanded beyond the highest conception. The sources of it are ever widening, ever increasing. The light of heaven irra- diates her, and its splendours dehght her soul. Her vision is unclouded, and penetrates the deep things of God. A short time ago, she was a sufferer here ; now, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 136 she is a rejoicing spirit. She has attained to fuller powers than she could have done in this world, had she been possessed of the greatest wisdom and the talents of the most accomplished individual that ever sojourned here. She possesses unbounded freedom, and delights in executing the Divine will. See her amongst the glorious throng, now bending in holy adoration before the Majesty of heaven, and now a commissioned mes- senger to far distant worlds. My thoughts were lost in the boundless track, and earth seemed too polluted to mingle again in its low pursuits. " No ; if I could, I would not call her down." " Through glass of faith I plainly see That she is happier far than me. Her golden harp she tunes so sweet, While sitting at her Saviour's feet. That I should like to go and hear, I sometimes think, and shed a tear, — No tear of sorrow, but of joy, — The hymns that now my child employ. Angels do sit and listen round, I make no doubt, to catch the sound, And every voice in chorus raise, To sound the great Redeemer's praise." " I WANT TO BE AN ANGEL." A CHILD sat in the door of a cottage at the close of a summer Sabbath. The twilight was fading, and as the shades of evening darkened, one after another of the stars stood in the sky, and looked down on the child in his thoughtful mood. He was looking up at the stars and counting them as they came, till they were too many to be counted, and his eyes wandered 136 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. all over the heavens, watching the bright worlds above. They seemed just like " holes in the floor of heaven to let the glory through," but he knew better. Yet he loved to look up there, and was so absorbed, that his mother called to him and said : " My son, what are you thinking of?" He started as if suddenly aroused from sleep, and answered : " I was thinking " " Yes," said his mother, " I know you were think- ing, but what were you thinking about ?" " O," said he, and his Httle eyes sparkled with the thought, ^- 1 want to be an angel." '• And why, my son, would you be an angel ?" " Heaven is up there, is it not, mother ? and there the angels live and love God, and are happy ; I do wish I was good and God would take me there, and let me wait on him forever." The mother called him to her knee, and he leaned on her bosom and wept. She wept too, and smoothed the soft hair of his head as he stood there, and kissed his forehead, and then told him that if he would give his heart to God, now while he was young, the Saviour would forgive all his sins and take him to heaven when he died, and he would then be with God forever. His young heart was comforted. He knelt at his mother's side and said : " Jesus, Saviour, Son of God, Wash me in thy precious blood ; I thy little lamb would be — Help me, Lord, to look to thee." The mother took the young child to his chamber, and soon he was asleep, dreaming perhaps of angels and heaven. A few months afterwards sickness was SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 137 on him, and the hght of that cottage, the joy of that mother's heart went out. He breathed his last in her arms, and as he took her parting kiss, he whispered in her ear : " I am going to be an angel." This is a very simple story, and it is just the way I have felt a thousand times. I have looked at the heavens, and given up to the child's thought that there are the blest ; I have wished that I might be one of their company ; done with sin ; and a bright career of hoUness and glory begun, to be ended never. And it looks so lovely there where God is, and the sunshine of his smile beams with matchless radiance on every heart, and love reigns through the realms of glory, and each strives to see which shall do the most for each other's bhss, that my heart goes there as to a resting-place, where sorrow cannot enter, and joy flows perennially from every soul. I feel at such times just Uke the child in the cottage door ; just like the man of old, who sighed for the wings of a dove that he might fly away. Yet, were it not for sin, this would be as bright and fair a world as that. God would be here as when in the morning of its being he walked in the garden with his friend, and smiled on him with parental love. The angels would be here, our companions and guides. Earth would be heaven, paradise as it was when sin was not. Then to be happy here, we must be holy. And the holier we are, the happier. And when we are released from sin, and by the merits and mercy of the Saviour, are introduced to the courts above, we shall be as the angels, holy, happy, rejoicing always with God. — Mothefs Magazine. 12* 138 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. From Dr. Watts' letter to Madam Sewall, upon the death of her children. *' Have you lost two lovely children 1 Did you make them your idols ? If you did, God has saved you from idolatry. If you did not, you have your God still, and a creature cannot be miserable, who has a God. The little words ' My God,' have infinitely more sweetness than ^ my sons' or ' my daughters.' Were they very desirable blessings? Your God calls you to the nobler sacrifice. Can you give up these to him at his call? So was Isaac, when Abraham was required to part with him at God's altar. Are you not a daughter of Abraham ? Then imitate his faith, his self-denial, his obedience, and make your evidences of such a spiritual relation to him shine brighter on this solemn occasion. Has God taken them from your arms ? And had you not given them to God before? Had you not devoted them to him in baptism? Are you displeased that God calls for his own ? Was not your heart sincere in the resignation of them to him? Show then, madam, the sincerity of your heart in leaving them in the hand of God. Do you say, they are lost ? Not out of God's sight, and God's world, though they are gone out of your sight and our world. ' All live to God.' You may hope the spreading covenant of grace has shelter- ed them from the second death. They live, though not with you. " Are you ready to complain, you have brought forth for the grave ? It may be so, but not in vain. Is. Ixv. 25. ' They shall not labour in vain, nor bring forth for trouble (i. e. for sorrow without hope) ; for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with them.' This has been a sweet text to many a mother, when their children are called away betimes. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 139 And the prophet Jeremy, ch. xxxi. 15, 17, has very- comfortable words to allay the same sorrows. Did you please yourself in what comforts you might have de- rived from them in maturer years? But, madam, do you consider sufficiently, that God has taken them away from the evil to come, and hid them in the grave from the prevailing and mischievous temptations of a degenerate age? My brother's w^ife, in London, has buried seven or eight children, and among them, all her sons. This thought has reconciled her to the providence of God, tliat the temptations of young men in this age are so exceedingly great, and she has seen so many of the young gentlemen of her acquaintance so shanvefuUy degenerate, that she wipes her tears for the sons cl^ has buried, and composes her soul to pa- tience and thankfulness, with one only daughter re- maining. Perhaps God has by this stroke prevented a thousand unknown sorrows. Are your sons dead ? But are all your mercies dead too? Food, raiment, safety, peace, hberty of religion, access to the mercy seat, hope of heaven ; all these are daily matters of thankfulness. Good madam, let not one sorrow bury them all. Show that you are a Christian, by making it to appear, that religion has supports in it which the world doth not know. What can a poor worldling do, but mourn over earthly blessings departed, and gone down with them comfortless to the grave ? But me- thinks a Christian should hft up his head, as partaking of higher hopes. May the blessed Spirit be your com- forter, madam. Endeavour to employ yourself in some business or employment of life continually, lest a soli- tary and inactive frame of mind tempt you to sit brood- ing over your sorrows, and nurse them to a dangerous size. Turn your thoughts often to the brighter scenes of heaven and the resurrection. 140 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. " Forgive the freedom of a stranger, madam, who desires to be the humble and faithful servant of Christ and souls. " Isaac Watts." FROM DR. DODDRIDGE. Could I wish, that this young inhabitant of heav- en should be degraded to earth again ? Or would it thank me for that wish ? Would it say, that it was the part of a wise parent, to call it down from a sphere of such exalted services and pleasures, to our low life here upon earth ? Let me rather be thankful for the pleasing hope, that though God loves my child too well to permit it to return to me, he will ere long bring me to it. And then that endeared paternal affection, which would have been a cord to tie me to earth, and have added new pangs to my removal from it, will be as a golden chain to draw me upwards, and add one farther charm and joy even to paradise itself And oh, how great a joy ! to view the change, and to compare that dear idea, so fondly laid up, so often reviewed, with the now glorious original, in the improvement of the upper world ! To borrow the words of the sacred writer, in a very different sense : '•^ I said Iioas deso- late and bereaved of children^ and who hath brought up these 7 I ivas left alone, and these where have they been 7* Was this my desolation ? this my sor- row ? to part with thee for a few days, That I might receive thee for ever,t and find thee what thou art ?" It is for no language, but that of heaven, to describe the sacred joy which such a meeting must occasion. In the meantime. Christians, let us keep the lively expectation of it, and let what has befallen us draw * Isa. xlix. 21. t Philem. ver. 15. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 141 our thoughts to heaven. Perhaps they will sometimes, before we are aware, sink to the grave, and dwell in the tombs that contain the poor remains of what was once so dear to us. But let them take flight from thence to more noble, more delightful scenes. And I will add, let the hope we have of the happiness of our children render God still dearer to our souls. We feel a very lender sense of the kindness which our friends expressed towards them, and think, indeed very justly, that their affectionate care for them lays a lasting ob- ligation upon us. What love then, and what service do we owe to thee, oh gracious Father, who hast, we hope, received them into thine house above, and art now entertaining them there with unknown delight, though our former methods of commerce with them be cut off! " Lord," should each of us say in such a case, " I would take what thou art doing to my child as done to myself, and as a specimen and earnest of what shall shortly be done." It is therefore well. THE REGENERATION OP INFANTS. BY THE REV. JAMES BUCHANAN.* Dr. Buchanan. shows the doctrine of the Confession of Faith on the subject of regeneration, of its absolute necessity to all men, including infants ; that it is not baptism, nor necessarily connected with it, although baptism is its sign seal, and when God pleases, its means ; and that infants are capable of being regen- erated. He then lays down the position that children, however young, even infants in their mothers' arms, are * Of the Free Church of Scotland, in his Work on the Office and Work of the Holy Spirit. Part I., eh. viii. Edinburgh, 1842. 142 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. fit and capable subjects of divine grace, may be evinced by various considerations. Several of these considerations afford a presumption in favour of the expectation that some provision would be made in the scheme of gracfe on their behalf ; while others of them afford a positive proof that such a provision exists, and is available for their benefit. ***** The positive proof on the subject will be found to afford ample evidence for affirming that in the actual scheme of grace, provision has been made for the case of infants, and that they are fit and capable subjects of the Gospel salvation. That proof consists chiefly, (1) in express doctrinal statements on the subject ; (2) in recorded instances of sanctified infancy ; (3) in the analogy of the typical dispensation ; and (4) in the ordinance of baptism, as apphcable to infants in the Christian church. * * * On these grounds, I think it must be evident that in- fant children are fit and capable subjects of divine grace, and that they are included in the covenant of redemption. It may be difficult for us to understand in what way the Spirit of God operates on their minds, or through what medium they obtain a participation of the blessings of salvation, which are said to be •' by faith."' The regeneration of infants may be ascribed to a direct operation of the Spirit on their minds, and in this respect may be said to resemble what is sup- posed to be in every case the primary influence of the Spirit, under which the soul is passive, and by which, without the intervention of any instrumentahty, he ef- fects a permanent change, " predisposing it to receive, and love, and obey the truth."* By this direct opera- tion he may implant that principle of grace which is » Lectures by Dr. Payne of Exeter, 338, 357. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 143 the germ of the new creature, — that incorruptible seed, which may he long under the furrow, but will sooner or later spring up, and produce the peaceable fruits of righteousness. Our older divines were wont to distin- guish between the principle or habit of grace, and the exercise of grace ;* and to maintain that the principle might exist in children who were as yet incapable of the exercise, and that grace in such was real and sa- vingjt It may be generally connected too, with the faith of the parent, in whom, during the period of non- age, the infant is federally included. t But it is suffi- cient to say in the language of the Westminster Con- fession, that " they are regenerated and saved by Christ through the Spirit, who worketh when, and where, and how he pleaseth," — "for the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou canst not tell whence it coineth, nor whither it goeth : so is every one that is born of the Spirit." And to him who objects to the regeneration of infants on the ground of its mysteriousness, may we not say, that the natural birth of a child is full of mys- tery : "I am fearfully and wonderfully made : mar- vellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the low- est parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my sub- stance, yet being imperfect ; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fash- ioned, when as yet there was none of them ;" — and in the Preacher's words, " as thou knowest not what is the way of the Spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child, even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh alJ." * Dr. Owen, ii. 283, 482, 492. t Ibid. ii. 413. X Homilies on Baptism, by Rev. Edward Irving, 346, 349 144 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. FROM THE REV. DR. PYE, IN REPLY TO A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE ON THE DEATH OP HIS CHILDREN. Dear Sir, — I cannot sufficiently express my grati- tude for your very kind letter, and seasonable present of your sermon. My wife and I now look upon ourselves as your friends, in the best sense of the word ; since you have manifested so much tenderness and compassion in our late circumstances of grief, and indeed, to us, uncom- mon sorrow. I call them late circumstances, because the time is already come, when, I am sure, we can both of us speak of the death of our children with re- signation, and think of them with pleasure. What philosophy could not accomplish Christianity has done. To the author of our religion and our consolation be the glory. I cannot in a better manner express our thoughts upon this occasion, than by quoting the following lines, which I V rote, a few days after the death of our two children, for the use of my then mourning wife and myself You may call it a short letter from my dear girl to us, just after she had ceased to breathe, and a little before her brother's death. "Your tender care and fond, though rational love of all your children, with your agonies of grief under the apprehension of parting with me and my dear bro- ther, are the most convincing proofs of the reality and greatness of your sorrow, now that I am gone, and he is just upon the wing to follow me to the unknown world. But it was He who made us that called us away, and we cheerfully obeyed the summons : and I must now tell you, though you both already know it, that He expects from you, not only that you meekly and calmly submit to such a seemingly severe dispen- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 145 sation of his providence, but tliat you also rejoice with me in it, because it is the will and pleasure of our di- vine Father. " I, young as I was, am now become an inhabitant of heaven, and already see the beauty and harmony of that little chain of events, which related to my short abode in your world, and even the manner of my leav- ing it : and when you see the things as they really are and not as they may now appear, you will confess and adore the divine goodness, even in taking us so soon from your embraces. " God, who has made all things for the manifestation of his adorable perfections, gave us our being from you ; adore him therefore for his goodness, in making use of you as instruments, in the course of events, to usher us into the world. Ask not why he so early removed us ; we sufficiently answered the great end of our being, if, while living at the same time that we gave you plea- sure, you were disposed to lead us, by your examples and precepts, into the paths of virtue and religion ; and if now, by the loss of us, you become examples of pa- tience and submission to the Divine will, which, next to doing the will of God, are virtues which bear the greatest name in our world. "Let, therefore, all the little incidents in our past hves, the remembrance of which are too apt to renew your sorrow, be so many occasions of your joy: inas- much as they may recall the pleasant ideas you once dehghted in ; and to let the dismaying and melancholy remembrance of our sickness and early death, be changed into cheering and bright ideas of what we now enjoy ; and what you, I hope, will one day see i|8 in possession of." :^^U 13 146 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ORIGINAL LETTER OF DR. MASON.* The respected friend who has favoured us with these letters for pubUcation, will have secured his main object, should any whom God has set in darkness, derive from them light and consolation. Let mourners read them and be comforted. The great truths which satisfied the reason, gave peace to the heart, and rendered full of immortality the hopes of Dr. Mason, can sustain the soul under every misfortune and calamity, and enable it to rise above the fear, and prove itself invincible in the warfare with Death. They are a treasure open and free for all who will receive them with thankful ac- knowledgment of the divine mercy and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. With them poverty is rich, and sorrow clad in garments of praise ; without them the purple of all the Caesars were but rags and wretched- ness, and kings poor indeed. New Yohk I2th ApHl, 1808. Again in the furnace, my brother ! Again lament- ing under the chastenings of God ! My heart bleeds with yours, I pour out my tears and supplications that this new and sore visiting may be blessed, and may af- terwards yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness. It shall be so. It is so, in some measure, already. What- ever brings us to the feet of our Redeemer, does us good. He is the physician, and he knows best how to make up the prescription, and how to administer it. He has taken away your boy, but not Himself, nor his loving kindnesses. He has shown you the rod, but not the evil it has avoided. He has made you to smart under the stroke, but it is, probably, a substitute for some blow » From the N. Y. Obeerver. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 147 unspeakably more awful, and perhaps nigh at hand when he smote you, but now turned aside forever. We must live by faith, my brother. Our comforts must not be our gods. Our souls have neither purity nor peace, nor establishment, nor victory, but in proportion as our fellowship is with the Lord our life, and our hfe- giving head. O, for that habitual nearness to him which shall keep in constant and gracious dependence upon his word of truth, which he has promised never to take utterly from us. The further the creature re- moves from us. the more desirable and consoHng is our walking with him who, when we are overwhelmed, knows our path. Yours most tenderly, Rev. Jas. Laurie. J. M. Mason. TO a bereaved parent. ERSKINE. I CANNOT, I dare not say, weep not. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus, and surely, he allows you to weep ; surely, there is a " needs be" that you feel a heaviness under such a trial. But O, let hope and joy mitigate your heaviness. I know not how this, or a former trial, shall work for your good, but it is enough that God knows. He that said, " All things shall work together for good to them that love God," excepts not from this promise the sorest trial. You devoted your son to God ; you cannot doubt that he accepted the surrender. If he has been hid in the chamber of the grave from the evil of sin, and from the evil of suifering, let not your eye be evil, when God is good. What you chiefly wish- ed for him, and prayed on his behalf, was spiritual and heavenly blessings. If the greatest thing you wished i4fl SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. for is accomplishedj at the season and in the manner In- finite Wisdom saw best, refuse not to be comforted; you know not what work and joy have been waiting for him in that world, where God's " servants shall serve him." Should you sorrow immoderately when you have such ground of hope that he, and his other parent are rejoicing in what you lament? I know that nature will feel ; and I beUeve suppressing its emotions in such cases is not profitable, either to soul or body ; but I trust, though you mourn, God will keep you from murmur- ing, and that you shall have to glory in your tribulation and infirmity, while the power of Christ is manifested thereby. Unhappy one ! thou callest in vain unto the dead to awake. The sleep of the body is dreamless and eternal. Cold and white as the marble is that face of beauty : as still that breast v/hich heaves with deep affection. Turn to the heavenly Helper ! Between God and thee was her love divided. O flee to Him in thy sorrow, and he will give thee consolation. He himself hath drunk of every cup of bitterness : he will have sympathy with thee in thy anguish ; he will heal thy broken heart. Walter Hawthorne. REV. ROBERT HALL, ON THE DEATH OF HIS CHILD. My Dear Friend : — I am greatly obliged for your kind and consolatory letter, replete with those topics wlience alone true con- solation can be deduced. The stroke has been very se- verely felt by us both, but certainly most by dear Mrs. Hall. She was dotingly fond of our lovely boy. For my own part, I was not at all aware my affection for SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 149 him was so strong, until he was removed from us ; my anguish was then great. It seemed to me as if I felt more on this occasion, than I should at the loss of either of my others. This feeling, I suspect, was delusive, and arises from our being incapable of estimating the strength of our attachment to any object until it is removed. I was disappointed in his being a boy ; for recollecting my own extreme and portentous wickedness, I fancied there was something in the constitution of boys pecu- liarly tending to vice, and adverse to their spiritual in- terests. I had also remarked that females seemed much more susceptible of religious impressions than men. On these accounts I trembled for his salvation, and did not feel that gratitude for the blessing vouchsafed me, which I ought. I suspect I greatly displeased God by my distrust of his goodness, and that he saw it meet to adopt this method of chastising me. May it be sancti- fied as a means of making me humble, heavenly, and submissive. It is a very solemn consideration, that a part of myself is in eternity, in the presence, I trust, of the Saviour. How awful will it be, should the branch be saved, and the stock perish ! Pray for me, my dear friend, that this may not be the case ; but that I may be truly sanctified, and permitted to walk in the fear of the Lord, and in the consolations of the Holy Ghost. FROM A LETTER OF ROBERT HALL. (fdE SINCERELY sympathize with you in the loss of your child J but, my dear friend, do not suffer your spirits to sink. Remember the tenure on which all human enjoyments are held, the wisdom and sovereignty of their great Author, and the gracious promise afforded 160 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. to true Christians, that "all things shall work together for good, to thern that love him." Remember, also, the many blessings with which a kind Providence still indulges you. Ought you not to rejoice, that your affectionate companion in life is spared ; and that, though your child is snatched from your embraces, he has escaped from a world of sin and sorrow ? The stamp of immortality is placed on his happiness, and he is encircled by the arms of a compassionate Redeemer. Had he been permitted to live, and you had witnessed the loss of his virtue, you might have been reserved to suffer still severer pangs. A most excellent family, in our congregation, are now melancholy spectators of a son dying, at nineteen years of age, by inches, a victim to his vices. They have frequently regretted he did not die several years since, when his Hfe was nearly despaired of in a severe fever. •' Who knoweth what is good for a man all the days of this, his vain life, which he spends as a shadow ?" THE LOSS OF CHILDREN. FLAVEL. Mourner, whatever may be your grief for the death of your children, it might have been still greater for their life. Bitter experience once led a good man to say, " It is better to weep for ten children dead, than for one living." Remember the heart-piercing affliction of David, whose son sought his life. Your love for your children will hardly admit of the thought of such a thing as possible, in your own case. They appear- ed innocent and amiable; and you fondly believed, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 151 that through your care and prayers, they would have become the joy of your hearts. But may not Esau, when a child, have promised as much comfort to his parents as Jacob ? Probably he had as many of their prayers and counsels. But as years advanced, he de- spised their admonitions, and filled their hearts with grief. As a promoter of family religion, who ever re- ceived such an encomium from the God of heaven as Abraham ? How tenderly did the good man pray for Ishmael ! '• O that Ishmael might live before thee !" Yet how little comfort did Ishmael afford. Alas ! in these days of degeneracy, parents much more frequently witness the vices of their children than their virtues. And even should your children prove amiable and promising, you might live to be the wretched witness of their sufferings. Some parents have felt unutterable agonies of this kind. God may have taken the lamented objects of your affection from the evil to come. When extraordinary calamities are coming on the world, he frequently hides some of his feebler children in the grave. Surely, at such a portentous period, it is happier for such as are prepared, to be lodged in that peaceful mansion, than to be exposed to calamities and distresses here. Thus intimates the prophet Jeremiah, " Weep not for the dead, neither bemoan him ; but weep sore for him that goeth away ; for he shall return no more, nor see his native country." It was in a day when the faith and patience of the saints were peculiarly tried, that the voice from heaven said, '• Write, blessed are the dead, which die in the Lord, from henceforth." SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. THE EARLY DEAD.* ^ To Mr. and Mrs. on the loss of an only child. I HOPE I am not insensible to the severity of the blow which has fallen upon you, and spread desolation over your house ; I desire in the spirit of Him who was a man of sorrows, to condole with you in this affliction. It seems but yesterday that I beheld your dear A , and rejoiced with you in her personal comeliness, and her bright promise. Now the grave covers her from our sight. Alas ! how insecure are our choicest pleasures, and our most valued blessings. Like the dew upon a flower, how soon they vanish, and we see them no more ! We trust — our confidence is destroyed ; we hope — our expectation is cut off. It is no province of mine to exhort you not to mourn. " Jesus wept." The bosom will heave : we have affec- tions and sympathies ; and who shall say it is unchris- tian to drop the tributary tear over the ashes of the loved and lost ? But 1 may exhort you to sikek that temper of resignation, which will enable you to say with Job, — " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." You may h^ve occasion hereafter to say, It is good for us that we have been afflicted. ..''Amid your list of blessings infinite "This may stand foremost, that your hearts have bledJ^ Pray that God would not only send consolation, but the sanctifying influences of his Spirit ; pray that " this dart, like that which once pierced an imposthume in battle, may bring health with its wounds ;" and you ♦ From the N. Y. Observer. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 153 shall be enabled to say with one of old, " The Lord hath chastened us sore ; but he hath not given us over unto death." Death, though it involves many circumstances of a painful character, is often, in no small degree, render- ed even attractive and lovely. There is something glorious and sublime in the exit of a saint, who is ripe for heaven, from this sorrowful, sinful world. There is something even lovely in the departure of an infant to be with angels, notwithstanding the awful chasm it occasions in the bereaved circle. The lifeless clay is beautiful ; death cannot " steal the signet ring of heaven." It is no paradox, then, to speak of the beauty of death. We gaze upon features, pale and cold indeed, but which have never been furrowed by care ; which have never been distorted by envy, malice or revenge, never have been darkened by pining grief. And as we gaze, there is no retrospect of reverses and vicissitudes, of sorrows and of sin. True we hold the remains of one who was the offspring of depraved pa- rents, who inherited a depraved nature, and could be saved only by the atoning merits of a crucified Sav- iour ; and who, if life had lasted, would have been ex- posed to temptation and sin. But how consolatory and cheering the reflection that the soul, which so lately animated the lifeless frame, now adorns, like a starry gem, the crown of our glorious Immanuel. It is a relief to the agonized feelings of parents and bereaved friends, that the early dead are rescued from many evils to come. This world is a wilderness, through which it is impossible to pass and avoid dan- ger j or this life is a voyage which exposes us to many tempests and adverse winds. How many in their sor- row, have mourned like Job that they did not die in infancy, "for then they should have lain still and been 154 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. quiet, they should have slept and been at rest." The early dead escape not only temptations and sins, but from the hazards of this changeful world, from vicissi- tudes, pain, weakness, from days of anguish, from sleepless nights, from untold agony. The merciful Disposer of events may have foreseen a storm of ad- versity impending, and therefore removed your precious lamb to a place of safety — the upper fold — to the bosom of the good Shepherd. Is it not safer, nay, happier on that bosom than it could have been on your own? And how consolatory is the reflection that your dear A is not lost^ but only removed to another apart- ment in our heavenly Father's house ! Gone before you — gone^ indeed, to return no more ; but not lost^ and may still be yours ; " A treasure but removed, A bright bird parted for a clearer day — Yours still in heaven !" Yours hereafter to meet — yours to love — yours with whom to rejoice in eternal hymns of praise to a glorifi- ed Saviour. If children are a parent's jewels, let him not be disconsolate, when they are taken to be planted in the Redeemer's diadem. If children are our olive plants, flowers which we tenderly cherish, let us not mourn wheu they are taken to a shelter from the win- try storm and tempest. It is to Christianity we are indebted for the most ef- fectual consolation in the hour of bereavement. It dis- robes death of his terrors, and disarms him of his sting. It teaches us to view death as a separation^ and strews the amaranth over the tomb. Christianity styles death a sleep, and the grave a bed ; an old writer calls it " a perfumed bed," for Jesus slept in it. It con- secrates the sepulchre. It places angels of light around SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 155 its portals to guard and keep the reposing dust, and writes thereon, " Hope," " Eternal Life." That God may comfort you with the consolations of his grace, which are neither few nor small, is the pray- er of your friend, Ald. Boston^ Jan. 2^th. 1840. THE INFANT IN HEAVEN. BY DR. CHALMERS. The following beautiful passage from the writings of Dr. Chalmers may comfort many a sorrowing mother, as she weeps over the grave of her infant babe. This affords, we think, something more than a du- bious ghmpse into the question, that is often put by a distracted mother when her babe is taken away from her — when ail the converse it ever had with the world, amounted to the gaze upon it of a few months, or a few opening smiles, which marked the dawn of felt enjoy- ment ; and ere it reached perhaps the hsp of infancy, it, all unconscious of death, had to wrestle through a period of sickness with its power, and at length to be overcome by it. Oh ! it little knew what an interest it had created in that home where it was so passing a visitant — nor, when carried to its early grave, what a tide of emotion it would raise among the few acquaint- ances it left behind it ! On it, too, baptism was im- pressed as a seal : and, as a sign, it was never falsified. There was no positive unbelief in its bosom ; no resist- ance yet put forth to the truth ; no love at all for the darkness rather than the hght ; nor had it yet fallen into that great condemnation which will attach itself to all that perish because of unbelief, that their deeds rl66 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. iare evil. It is interesting to know that God instituted circumcision for tlie infant children of the Jews, and at least suffered baptism for the infant children of those who profess Christianity. Should the child die in in- fancy, the use of baptism, as a sign, has never been thwarted by it ; and may we not be permitted to in- dulge a hope so pleasing, as that the use of baptism as a seal remains in all its entireness ; that He, who sanc- tioned the atTixing of it to a babe, will fulfil upon it the whole expression of this ordinance. And when we couple with this the known disposition of our great Fore- runner, the love that he manifested to children on earth, how he suffered them to approach his person, and lav- ishing endearment and kindness upon them in the streets of Jerusalem, told his disciples, that the presence and company of such as these in heaven formed one ingre- dient of the joy that was set before him ; tell us if Christianity does not throw a pleasing radiance around an infant's tomb? and should any parent who hears us, feel softened by the touching remembrance of alight that twinkled a few short months under his roof, and at the end of its Uttle period expired, we cannot think that we venture too far, v/hen we say, that he has only to persevere in the faith, and in the following of the gospel, and that very light will again shine upon him in heaven. The blossom which withered here upon its stalk, has been transplanted there to a place of en- durance ; and there it will then gladden that eye which now weeps out the agony of an affection that has been Borely wounded ; and in the name of Him who, if on earth, would have wept along with them, do we bid all believers present, to sorrow not even as others which have no hope, but to take comfort in the thought of that QDuntry where there is no sorrow and no separation. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS 167 Oh ! when a mother meets on high, The babe she lost in infancy ; Hath she not then for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over payment of delight ? THE VIEWS OF A TROUBLED FATHER OF MANY CHIL- DREN, AND A SELF-CONDEMNED CHRISTIAN: IN A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. But, as if to show the nothingness of human ap- plause — in the midst of our brightest and happiest hours, there comes one of those alarming and unexpect- ed strokes of providence, to embitter even the short pe- riod allotted to us for enjoyment — the season of youth. It is only for a few years, when our first-born children begin to articulate the name of father, and to hang around us, with all that ardour of filial affection, and to wait for an approving smile, or a fond caress., that we experience the blessing without alloy, of having chil- dren. Bye and bye, they begin to love to wander ; and the bustle of life — the studies of school — and the natu- ral disposition for play — take off their attention from pa- rents, and from home, and except during the few short moments of meals, our children are no more seen by us than entire strangers. Every succeeding year in- creases the distance, and anxieties like a wild deluge burst upon us, so that we are frequently tempted to .wish that responsibilities so heavy had not been laid jiipon us. Such have been my feelings for the last /^seven years, and I state them in order to comfort you under the late severe bereavements. These considera- tions may have some weight with youy but what can 168 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. be said to relieve a mother's anguish ? In her heart is inflicted a festering wound, which nothing earthly can heal. But, blessed be God, there is consolation to be drawn from a higher source. God is our refuge, and our strength ; a very present help in the time of trou- ble, and he doth not aflSict willingly, or grieve the chil- dren of men. He gives, and when he takes away, he takes but what he gave ; he can give the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. When our children are removed in infancy, we know, who have endured the storms of life, from how many they have been sheltered within the bosom of their father and their God. If the dear Saviour, when on earth, took them up in his arms and blessed them, with w^hat joy will they not be received into the land of pure delight, washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb. These must be part, and the greater part of that in- numerable throng who surround the throne ; else heav- en would not be peopled with inhabitants, for I really believe few of those who have long dwelt on earth, are fitted to enter there — few are chosen. Sin gains strong- er and stronger dominion every year ; and love for di- vine things, or real joy in believing, becomes less and less ; and the troubles of life nearly drown the fire of celestial love that once glowed in the heart. And so I find it to be in others, the older they grow — therefore, there are few that be saved unless as by fire. How merciful, and how kind is it, therefore, in early years, for the good Shepherd to snatch his young lambs from the jaws of the wolf, the temptations of a wicked world, and a growingly wicked heart ; from the cold blasts of wintry adversity, to those blissful regions, where the sun shall no more go down, nor the moon withdraw herself ; where He^ who is on the throne, shall be their SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 169 everlasting light, and their days of mourning shall be ended. Will you accept these few poor imperfect thoughts on this melancholy subject, as the best that have suggested themselves to me ? I know you and your wife avail yourselves of all that comfort which is derived from daily application at the throne of grace, and there alone can you expect to receive peace to your troubled minds ; and there I leave you. My trials have been heavy and severe, but of a different kind, and I see no release from them in this world. To whichso- ever side I turn, all looks black, and gloomy, and cheer- less, and I feel yet as the dove who flew from the Ark, but could find no place that was not covered with the w^aters whose angry billows had swept away every thing lovely in creation, and left nothing for the eye to rest upon but chaos. Such is my present prospect. I could wish at the close of the year to dwell on more joyous scenes, but I cannot. May God of his infinite mercy sanctify to us the bereavements and changes of this eventful year, and prepare us for whatever is his will in the new one that is approaching. And though the fig-tree should not blossom, nor any fruit be found on the vine, and the flocks should be cut off from the stall, yet may we rejoice in the God of our salvation. Come and let us return unto the Lord ; for he hath torn and he will heal us ; he hath smitten, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us ; in the third day he shall raise us up, and we shall live in his sight." APPEAL TO PARENTS WHO ARE NOT PROFESSORS OP RELIGION. Irreligious, but bereaved parents, — after all, what avails the safety of the departed to you ? While hope 160 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. for your own soul holds aloof so far — while the appeals of mercy are repeated in vain — ^^while conscience tells so fully, and so truly, that the offer of salvation has ever been tendered in vain — what boots the rest 1 What is it to you that the hope of a glorious resurrec- tion enters the dark and dank habitation of the little one ? You meet again : but if there be a single feel- ing of horror above all others to our present conception, it is that of the ending of a natural and social law, at the judgment seat of God. It is that of a law of af- fection availing nothing. Your little one became the property of Jesus — not by virtue of any prayer of faith that 1/ou had uttered — not by a free-will offering that you had made — but by that blood of atonement you have thrust so often from you — by that distinguishing grace whose attractions were too faint for your eye. Yet you have watched by the bed of the departing spirit of infancy ; and you have caught the last sigh, as the soul winged its passage from earth. And even the loneliness of that sad moment seemed broken by an admonition — " Father !" — " Mother !" — " come AWAY !" You heard — you thought — eternity neared — earth interposed — and you returned to its bosom* again. Impenitent, but bereaved parent ! — When a future world, in some hour of reflection, flings its shadow over your path ; and, despite of all your efforts, presses its realities upon your attention, remember — that no bond of parental love may abide hereafter, when the frown of an offended God settles the destiny of the lost, and the only relationship that exists, is that of the family of Christ. If the tender mercies of the Saviour were too little engaging to win your admiration- — if the worth of yotar oyn foul has not entered into your thoughts erf SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 161 th« future — behold what an argument is furnished by an afflictive dispensation ! You loved the departed. To that very affection a most solemn providence of God has appealed. It bids you gaze from earth to Heaven. It reminds you of the abode of glorified spirits. It admonishes you to inquire, " am I also ready ?" It intimates most earnestly and clearly, that the only true consolation which ever succeeds the stroke of sorrow, must be connected v/ith a reconcihation to God, and an humble hope in the Redeemer's blood. Let these be yours, and your peace will be independent of the precarious tenure of human life. Faith shall scatter the darkness, and explain the mystery, so rea- dily attendant on affliction. You shall look up from the tomb to the late object of your solicitude and care You shall exclaim with a confidence sure and steadfast, — " though he shall not return to me" — " I shall go TO HIM ! I" Have any of you lost children who are not your- selves pious? The mind of each of those children has been unfolding in heaven, and has probably grown fester than if on earth. It has been made acquainted with its relation to you, and perhaps it watches every soul that comes up from earth to heaven, to greet its father or mother. Soon you must appear at the bar of God. You may there have an interview with your child ; and suppose that you are there separated from that spirit who has been growing in the knowledge of God and of the universe, anticipating the delightful employment of telHng you about heaven, and leading you among its glorified society, and along its celestial plains ! Perhaps you have a Httle family there, expecting 14* ]62 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. your arrival. Can you bear the thought of being sep- arated from them in eternity ? Are you an impenitent parent 7 and have you im- penitent children who are growing up without religion ? and has God taken away one or more of your children in infancy or early life ? Perhaps it was because He saw that your example or neglect would ruin all the family, if they lived to grow up, and He has therefore rescued some of them from destruction by an early death. But let the joy of meeting those that have gone to heaven excite you to save your own soul and the souls of your surviving children. Then, though you mourn over their early graves, you shall not sorrow as they that have no hope. " Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him." Their early death may prove, if you are saved, a source of the richest joy and of praise ! ^^ He is 7iot here.''^ Not at his grave, bereaved mother, weep ; He is not here ! First wipe away each tear, And faith shall show thy clearer eyes A star to guide thee where thy young child Hes, As safe in heaven, and dear As when thou smiled'st on him in his sleep. " The sting of death is sin." Mourn not o'er early graves — for those Removed whilst only buds are shown, For God, who sow'd and watered, knows The time to gather in his own. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 163 This blossom knows no winter's breath Sheltered beneath the Almighty wing ; And though it felt the stroke of death, Blest babe I it never knew its sting. " The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken^ A CHILD of wrath— a child of grace — In Heaven a smiling cherub now ! And all within a month's brief space : Oh, sweet and blessed babe ! wert Thou. Sent but to gladden and to grieve ! (Oh, thus our mourning hearts rebel !) Why sent — why taken — we beli^iTe Our babe, when next we meet, shall tell. * I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. While sickness rent thine infant frame, Before our God we wept and prayed ; But when his heavenly summons came, Fond nature struggled, and obeyed. We laid thee in thy early rest, And changed the burden of our pray'r : May he who took thee to the blest. But make thee our forerunner there I Not for the babe that sleepeth here My tears bestow, my sorrows give, — Pass on, and weep with grief sincere For those who innocence outlive. " Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest.^ If of our best and dearest God demands, We yield the grave, with unreluctant hands, Our best and dearest, striving to submit To any sacrifice which he deems fit — He will forgive the tears — reversed our doom — Since weeping parents build their children's tomb. 164 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. It is well with the child. It is well ! — nor would we our babe recall, And soothing and sweet are the tears that fall ; — But a few brief pangs on his mother's breast, And we laid him down in his holy rest ; Ere the world its snares around him threw, — Or its sins and its cares he ever knew. It is well ! since the Saviour's word is given, That of such as our child is the host of heaven ! No struggle for him, — no doubts or fears. His young cheek spared repentant tears. It is well ! and we " bear" and adore " the rod," For the wielding hand was the hand of God. ^^ Let him do what seemeth Him good.^^ Instincts, affections, must lie still — In meek obedience to God's will. Oh, give me children or I die. Impatient Rachel sighed : Granted, but punished, was the cry — She travailed and she died. " Of such is the kingdom of heaven" Thou purified for heaven, oh, say — Shall we thy early death deplore ? No, let us rather bless the day That gave to God an angel more. " Weep not for me^ but for yourselves?^ Much as we loved thee — to our bitter cost Alas, how much, we knew not till we lost !— Oh, say not lost ! the dead in Jesus sleep ; And not for them, but for ourselves, we weep. CHAPTER VII SHORTER SELECTIONS IN PROSE. Flowers, nourish'd by my tears, I wreath for you, — Sweet, stainless flowers : Come lay them on your heart, Their cool, damp leaves will lull its fever pulse, With balm from heaven. L. H. SiGOURNET. In the hoiu- of grief the mind may not be able to fol- low the train of argument by which the doctrine of the salvation of infants, dying such, is estabhshed. To ac- commodate this little monitor to the situation of those whom it addresses, a number of detached thoughts are added, which, hke stars, may throw their twinkling radiance over the gloom of sorrow, and irradiate its darkness by their heavenly consolation. GOD IS NOT DEAD. There lived in the east of Scotland, a pious clergy- man, who had presided for a number of years, over a small but respectable congregation. In the midst of his active career of usefulness, he was suddenly remo- ved by death, leaving behind him a wife and a number of helpless children. The small stipend allowed him by his congregation, had been barely sufficient to meet the current expenses of his family ; and at his death no visible means were left for their support. The death of her husband prey- 166 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ed deeply upon the heart of the poor afflicted widow, while the dark prospect which the future presented, fill- ed her mind with the most gloomy apprehensions. By her lonely fireside she sat — the morning after her sad bereavement — lamenting her forlorn and destitute con- dition, when her little son, a boy of five years of age, entered the room. Seeing the deep distress of his moth- er, he stole softly to her side, and placing his little hand in hers, looked wistfully into her face, and said : " Moth- er, mother, is God dead ?" Soft as the gentle whisper of an angel, did the simple accent of the dear boy fall upon the ear of the disconsolate, and almost heart bro- ken mother. A gleam of heavenly radiance lighted up, for a moment, her pale features. Then snatching up her httle boy, and pressing him fondly to her bosom, she exclaimed : " No, no, my son, God is not dead ; he lives, and has promised to be a father to the fatherless, a husband to the widow. His promises are sure and steadfast, and upon them I will firmly and implicitly rely." Her tears Avere dried, and her murmurings for- ever hushed. The event proved that her confidence was not misplaced. The congregation over whom her husband had worthily presided, generously settled upon her a handsome annuity, by which she was enabled to support her family, not only comfortably, but even gen- teelly. The talents of her sons, as they advanced in years, soon brought them into notice, and finally pro- cured them high and honourable stations in society. Your child, though dead, is still, bereaved parents, yours. " God has given me three sons," writes the Rev. Oliver Heywood in his meditations, " all living, only the youngest lives with God, in his immediate presence, having died in infancy under the covenant."* • Works, Vol. i. p. 207. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 167 " Infants are as capable of regeneration as grown persons, and there is abundant reason to conclude, that all those who have not hved to commit actual transac- tions, though they share in the effects of the first Adam's offence, will also share in the blessings of the second Adam's gracious covenant, without their per- sonal faith and obedience, but not without the regener- ating influence of the Spirit of God upon their souls."* Tf the salvation of infants were pleaded for, on the ground of something meritorious in ihem^ or even on the ground of what is called negative goodness, then there were just ground for objection ; but on no such princi- ple is the argument here rested. It is only pleaded, that the Scriptures have distinguished between those of the human race, who have sinned after the similitude of Adam's transgression, and those who have not, — that God, of his abundant goodness, has extended to the whole of the latter the blessings of redemption, and that He has commanded the gospel to be preached to the former, and has declared, that whosoever believeth it shall be saved, and whosoever believeth not shall be condemned. The distinction between relative and personal blame, is not introduced to show, that in- fants who are involved only in the former, have a right to salvation, but to show that there is an analogy be- tween the way in which men came to be treated as sin- ners, and that in which they came to be treated as righteous, and to explain the principles of the present dispensation, both as an economy of moral government, and an economy of Sovereign goodness, — the former accounting for the principles on which adults shall at last be judged, and the latter communicating grace to • Scott, on Matt. xix. 13—15. 168 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. all who never were the subjects of the other. And if, for reasons worthy of himself, the Almighty has deter- mined that all dying in infancy shall be saved, what is this dispensation bat a part of the general plan of re- demption, through unmerited and Sovereign favour? Never can a dispensation designed to illustrate His grace, be in the least inconsistent with that very attri- bute. Hear a Christian say after burying his child, '' And now one of our family is gone to take possession of the sepulchre in all our names. Ere long I shall lie down with my child. — It is a warning of Providence, that these concluding days of my life may be more regular, more spiritual, more useful, than the former." " The hope of their being transplanted into a more salutary clime, there to rebloom in everlasting vigour ; and the reflection, that if they had been spared, they had been unavoidably exposed to innumerable tempta- tions, from which, if our lives were spared, we should yet be unable to screen them, ought to settle our minds." Yes, there is a pleasure in seeing them safe before us, instead of leaving them exposed to temptation and sin. THE INFANT'S GRAVE. The wife of tlie missionary, who came home last spring, brought with her from the foreign country where she had been long a sojourner, three noble boys. But they were not all her children. Her youngest was not with her. Did he sleep, then, under the stately mimosa, or the beautiful palm-tree — beneath the sha- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 169 dow of the church raised to the name of the Christianas God in the land of Idols? There, perhaps, his swar- thy nurse sits on his grave, and tells how the gentle white lady devoted her child to her Saviour in baptism, and found comfort when he died, and how she, poor heathen as she had been, had learnt submission from the Christian's book ; and now, having faith in Christ, lived in the calm hope of meeting again those her kind instructors, and that her foster-son. No ! the mission- ary's child is not buried there ; he died on the voyage home ; he was buried in the deep sea ; so neither nurse nor mother may look upon his grave ; but his Uttle cof- fin was made as neatly as circumstances permitted, and the ceremony of his funeral was conducted with all that attention to order and propriety which it is the last comfort of our survivors to pay. All the children, and there were many on board, beside his own little bro- thers, went on deck, and stood round the corpse whilst the beautiful service was read ; and it was solemnly and affectionately read, by the beloved friend and fel- low-labourer, who had been a stranger with them in the strange land. It was sad to be obliged to take the last look at the dear child, even before '' the first day of djeath was fled." There was something inexpres- sibly melancholy in the plunge with which the lost treasure sunk down, deeper and deeper, to the depths which no line has sounded ! and the waves rolled on, and the gallant ship hastened on her course, so that the eye of man might never again know the place of his rest. But " thou. Lord, art the hope of them that remain in the broad sea !" So thought his mother while she wept in silence ; but she looked for the resur- rection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead, and she was calm. — Scenes in our Parish. 15 170 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. If it has seemed meet to God, that the allotted three score years and ten should be spent rather in heaven than on earth, is there any reason for inconsolable an- guish ? Our departed infants have attained the end of their creation, so that there is no reason for saying, <« Why were they brought forth for the tomb ?" How animating the thought, that those powers which were but beginning to unfold themselves, are now expanding, and employed amid the glories of the heavenly par- adise. While the Christian parent is consoled by the thought, that his departed children have been washed in the blood of the Lamb ; he rejoices also in the faith, that the same blood can cleanse away all his own man- ifold and aggravated sins. Are not irreligious parents, then, solemnly admonished by what is said of their deceased infant offspring, to seek deUverance through the same atonement and resurrection, which have opened to the latter the kingdom of heaven. What a mercy, if the death of the child prove the hfe of the parent ; by leading the latter to seek for consolation, where alone it can be had. And, oh ! what a blessing, when, after wearying themselves seeking rest, and'find- ing none, the eyes of the unhappy are opened to perceive the well of life, and their ears to hear the melodious sounds of that message, which cahns the alarm occa- sioned by guilt, and soothes the sorrows of the afflicted sufferer. It is the Gospel alone which at once brings us to God, and, as it were, restores to us our friends. How dreadful the thought, when properly reahzed, that if bereaved, unbelieving parents continue strangers to the power of the Gospel, they and their children are separated for ever, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 171 THE BEREAVED MOTHER. " A mother's sorrow cannot be conceived but by a mother." Hannah More. I MARKED a mother at the tomb of her son. Her sa- ble garment coincided with the deep gloom that hung heavily around her heart. Her declining head, her closed clasped hands, her fixed position, her tear-be- ^ewed cheek, bespoke the intensity of her thoughts, and the sorrow of her soul. The scene struck the strings of sympathy, and a correspondent tear, flowing from the impulse of a similar feeling, trickled down my cheek. — Fancy lent her creative power to my mind, and methought I heard and felt the grief-inspired soliloquy of the heart-broken mother, as she revolved in her de- pressed mind the following thoughts : " Ah ! yes, my child, thou art numbered with the dead ! — The curtain of my hopes has suddenly dropped, and the thick cloud of soul-rending despondency shuts the light of joy and tranquillity from my mind. When feeble infancy was thine, with what rapture I watched the pleasurable smile playing on thy health-flushed cheeks: it was then my heart bounded with ecstacy, and antedated the joys of youth and the happiness of manhood. I thought thou wouldst have been the pillar of my old age ; I thought thou wouldst have supported my tot- tering decUning life, when the extinguished hand of time had quenched the fervour of vitality. But ah ! these love-built hopes are gone for ever ; they are bu- ried in the humid earth with thee. No more I hear thy voice — no more I mark thy sprightly eye ; thy voice is as silent as the grave, and thine eye fixed by the rigid power of death. Scarce more than eighteen months had rolled around thy head before the " grim monster'* came and snatched thee from the world. Thou wert 172 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. stricken as the tender sapling scathed by the Hght- ning's fiery bolt. O Death ! thou art the destroyer of a mother's bliss. But still, amid all my sorrow, I will say, " Worms may banquet on that frame, And ruin feed on what was fair : Back to the skies from whence it came The soul recalled shall flourish there." With these words she ended ; and taking her little daughter by the hand, she slowly retired.* Suppose, now, there should be a mother, always uneasy and sohcitous about her child, when it was in health, or sitting over it when in sickness, restless and anxious, trying this remedy, and that, without reason and without hope, just because she cannot give him up; — suppose, I say, that God should come to the bedside, and say to her, " Anxious mother, — I was taking care of your child, but since you are so restless and uneasy about it, I will give the case up to you, if you will take it. There is a great question to be decided ; — shall that child recover or die ? I was going to decide it in the best way for yourself and him. But since you cannot trust me, you may decide it yourself Look upon him, then, as he lies there suflfering, and then look forward as far as you can into futurity ; see as much as you can of his life here, if you allow him to live ; and look forward to eternity, — to his eternity and yours. Get all the light you can, and then tell me whether you are really ready to take the responsibility of deciding the question, whether he shall live or die. Since you are not willing to allow me to decide it, I will leave you to decide it yourself" « Influeiipp of Mothers, p. 132. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 173 What would be ihe feelings of a mother, if God should thus withdraw from the sick bed of her child, and leave the responsibility of the case in her hands alone ! Who would dare to exercise the power, if the power were given, or say to a dying child, " you shall live and on me shall be the responsibility?" Then let us all leave to God to decide. Let us be wise and pru- dent, and faithful in all our duties, but never, for a moment, indulge in an anxious thought ; — it is rebel- lion. Let us rather throw ourselves on God. Let us say to him, that we do not know what is best, either for us, or our children, and ask him to do with us just as he jjleases. Then we shall be at peace at all times, — when disease makes its first attack, — when the critical hours approach, by which the question of hfe or death is to be decided, and even when the last night of the httle patient's sufferings has come, and we see the vital powers gradually sinking, in their fearful struggle with death.* One day, whilst the lady of Sir Stamford Raffles was almost overwhelmed with grief for the loss of a favourite child, unable to bear the sight of her other children — unable to bear even the light of day — hum- bled upon her couch, with a feeling of misery ; she was addressed by a poor, ignorant, uninstructed, native woman, of the lowest class, who had been employed about the nursery, in terms of reproach not to be for- gotten. " I am come because you have been here many days shut up in a dark room, and no one dares to come near you. Are you not ashamed to grieve in this manner, when you ought to be thanking God for * Abbott's " Way to do good," p. 108, IK* 174 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. having given you the most beautiful child that ever was seen ? Did any one ever see him, or speak of him without admiring him ? And instead of letting this child continue in this world till he should be worn out with trouble and sorrow, has not God taken him to Heaven in all his beauty? What would you have more ? For shame ! — leave off weeping, and let me open a window." We may lament as an incurable evil, what God may esteem an invaluable good. Hence we may labour to defeat an event, to accomplish which, all the attributes of Omnipotence are embarked. Our prayers and energies may be excited to agony in warding off a storm, which, it is his purpose, shall come down upon us in all its fury. We watch at the couch of a lan- guishing child ; our life is bound up in his ; if it die, it seems to us that God must design to undo us ; and yet, perhaps, that child was given us that it might die in our arms, and be the means of our sanctification.* A HEATHEN FATHER AND HIS CHILD. Shagdur, a convert among the Moguls in Siberia, having lost his Uttle son, addressed the following letter to Mr. Swan the Missionary : My Dear Sir, — While you and I are, by the mer- ciful providence of our Lord Jesus Christ, alive and in health, I desire to lay one little matter before you. It pleased God to give me a little son •, and it has now pleased him to remove the child from me. Every day I think that one member of my body has been taken # Clark's Works, vol. i. p. 298. eOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 175 to heaven ; and this thought is like a sweet savour in my heart. And when I think of my dear child as one of the countless assembly who are singing the praises of Christ in heaven, my heart longs to go up and join them : but although the child, a part of my- self, is separated from me, I hope, through my Sav- iour's power and mercy, one day to meet him in glory. Now, sir, when my little William was born, the neighbours came in, bearing to him gifts ; some gave one copeck, (about one tenth of a penny;) some two; in all, forty copecks. When the child died, I did not know what to do with this money ; but, at length, a thought came to me, which gave joy to my heart ; and about this I write these few lines. • Among the many letters wliich go to make up the words contained in the New Testament, printed for the instruction of the heathen nations, Tonilgaksha* is often repeated. Now, although these forty copecks may not be sufficient for more than the dot over the letter i, in the word Tonilgakshi, I beg of you to ac- cept of my little William's money for that purpose. — Dear Sir, do not refuse it. I have not given it to you, but I have given it to print a dot over a letter in the name of my Saviour ; and may this be a little memo- rial of my infant, for the benefit of my dear friends who are without Christ. I remain your scholar, ShAGDUR, THE SON OF KeMUAH. Mr. Swan makes good use of this affecting inci- dent ; he writes — I hope the foregoing letter may meet the eye of many a bereaved parent to whom it may not have oc- curred to present to the Lord, in the form of an offering to His Cause, whatever belonged to some dear departed <^i.e. Jesus Chrirt. Xi^ ^»^*'^ ^' ^^-^^ ^' 176 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. child; or whatever they had destined as that child's portion, had the Lord been pleased to continue it to their embraces. And, perhaps, the reading of this sim- ple effusion of a heart but lately emerged from the deg- radation of a heathen state, and which has found a sweet solace under its bereavement in devoting the child's mite to the Lord, may induce some to go and do likewise. Some may be able far to surpass this offer- ing ; some parents may present, as having belonged to some dear departed infant, what may be enough to print, not merely the dots over a letter, but the whole of the Saviour's precious name in some Heathen lan- guage, — others, a whole verse — others, an entire book, — otli£rs, an edition of the New Testament, or of the whole Bible. STORY FROM THE MISHNA OF THE RABBINS. During the absence of Rabbi Meir from his house, his two sons died, both of them of uncommon beauty and enHghtened by the law. His wife bore them to her chamber, laid them upon the bed, and spread a white covering over their bodies. When Rabbi Meir returned, his first inquiry was for his sons. His wife reached to him a goblet ; he praised the Lord at the going out of the Sabbath, drank, and again asked, " Where are my sons, that they too may drink of the cup of blessing ?" " They will not be far off," she replied, and placed food before him that he might eat. He was in a glad- some and genial mood ; and when he had said grace, after the meal, she thus addressed him : " Rabbi, with thy permission, I would fain propose to thee one ques- tion." * Ask it then, my love," replied he. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 177 "A few days ago a person entrusted some jewels to my custody, and now he demands them ; should I give them back to him ?" " This is a question," said Rabbi Meir, " which my wife should not have thought it necessary to ask. What ! would'st thou hesitate or be reluctant to restore to every one his own ?" "No," she replied, " but yet I thought it best not to restore them without acquainting thee therewith." She then led him to their chamber, and stepping to the bed, took the white covering from the dead bodies. '' Ah ! my sons, my sons !" loudly lamented their father, " my sons ! the hght of my eyes, and the light of my understanding. I was your father — but ye were my teachers in the law." The mother turned away and wept bitterly. At length, she took the husband by the hand and said, " Rabbi, did'st thou not teach me that we must not be reluctant to restore that which was entrusted to our keeping ? See, the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord !" " Blessed be the name of the Lord !" echoed the holy man ; " and blessed be his glorious name forever." A CHRISTIAN PARENT'S REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. The bills of mortality show that more than half the human race die in infancy and childhood. As God then gave us five children, and has now taken away three, we are not to think ourselves m.ore hardly dealt with than others ; especially as these dear little ones have doubtless entered upon a good exchange. There is much in the consideration, that so many immortal human beings are just shown to this world, and so 178 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. quickly removed into another. They are as those plants which are gathered and housed the moment they are in season ; while others, who arrive at raaturer age, are as the fewer plants, which, being left for seed, remain longer out in wind and weather. What pains one's natural feelings most is, that we so much miss the delight that we have enjoyed in the lovely innocent ways of a thri- ving child. But even this is made up for the sure and certain prospect of what is far better. We do not re- gret the fall of the sweet and dehghtful blossoms of our plants and trees, though they soon drop off in such mul- titudes, because the fruit which succeeds is attended with more substantial enjoyment. Had we had no such child born to us a year ago, it is true we should not have been in our present sorrow ; but having attend- ed it this day to its grave, we are temporarily in the same situation as if we had never possessed it. And yet we can count it gain to be able to reckon on one more child of our own in heaven. It therefore was neither " made for naught," nor brought into the world in vain, nor has the care we expended on it been thrown away. And now that such care has ceased, and our responsibility with it, we have the more leisure to at- tend to the one thing needful, and to direct to this great object, in a more undivided manner, the attention of our two surviving children. THE GRAVE OF MY CHILD. The sweet month has again returned — the first of the summer months — which will ever be remembered by me as the season when my cherished one sickened and died. If not a father, reader, you may pass on, though I should delight to detain you near my littles daughter's grave for a few momentsl But if the pulsed SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 170 of parental love has ever had vitaUty in your bosom, I need not apologize. My feelings, my sympathies, my joys, and sorrows are yours. Two years have n'OW elapsed since that day when death first entered my family. The whole scene rushes vividly before the mind, showing how deep and strong was the impression then made. The first attack of the insidious disease — the promise of recovery — then the relapse — the in- cessant anxieties — the unsleeping vigils — the anguish of the helpless sufferer — her sweet submission to the will of God — her triumph over death and the grave — in a word, the succession of emotions, that like wave after wave, swept across our bosoms, \vhile life hung in fearful uncertainty, all these are engraven as with the point of a diamond on the table of the memory. Nor would we erase them. It is not a mere dream of the poet's imagination, that there is " luxury in grief." This idea is true to nature. Not, indeed, that the pain is not intense, when those chords of the heart are struck, which are the very seat of the most exquisite sensibili- ty, but that pain is mellowed and hallowed by some mysterious influence, flowing from the inexhaustible fountain of infinite benevolence. The heart Hngers too much round these visible scenes. " She goeth to the grave to weep there." Oh, why did she not look up 7 Contemplations that are bounded only by the limits of tbe grave are less fitted to minister consolation to zifflio tion, than nutriment to sorrow, even that "sorrow of the world that worketh death." If the soul, in the tu- mult of its grief, Avill but pause a moment, and hsten, it will soon hear a voice saying, " I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that beUeveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he Hve, and he that liveth and be* lieveth in me, shall never die." This changes the ett-' tire scene. It is no more sight y but faith* What * 180 . SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. world of wonders does faith unfold to the view ! Now^ we can see the ransomed spirit, not as it is oppressed with doubt and agonized with suffering, but spreading the unclogged wings of its Love, and expatiating with rapture amid scenes of heavenly beauty and songs of seraphic melody. Who would be so cruel as to call that spirit back again to be soiled with the dust of earth ; to re-endure its sorrows ; to be again endangered by its fascinations ; flattered with its illusions ; distracted with its cares, and deceived by its promises ? Is it not better for the soul to find " its long sought rest," to be disrobed of its earthly mantle ; to enter the pure and perfect society of the blessed ; to dwell where Holiness holds its court ; where angels tune their harps ; where the redeemed swell the high anthem of praise to the exalted Lamb ; where it will never be interrupted in that worship, which was the original privilege and the delicious employment of the soul, " created in the image of God ?" REaUIESCAT IN PEACE. Here then is the dust of my child. Let it rest in peace. Many a sweet spring shall put forth its blos- soms in sight of this early grave, but my little flower will remain crushed within its dark bosom. Many a gay summer will shed its beauty around the scene, and the bright colours of autumn will illumine yonder woodlands, but in this world my loved one will never smile again ! Oh the inexorable despotism of death ! Oh the iron-hearted sovereignty of the grave ! The thought is almost insupportable. But again, Rehgion teaches us to lift our eyes from the ashes of the dead to the region of pure, ethereal existence, of spiritual love, of unsullied hohness, and uninterrupted happiness. Nay, this must be the very object of dispensations like SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 181 these, to summoQ the mind to the contemplation of its superior good, and to attract the heart towards the cen- tre of every pure affection ; the supreme object of love and adoration to every holy being. Then let these things come, in their time. They come not by chance. Inspiration eloquently teaches us that they " come not of the dust, nor spring out of the ground." It tells us that " life is a vapour." How many parents can attest it ! " She came and passed. Can we forget How we, whose hearts had hailed her birth, Ere four autumnal suns has set. Consigned her to her mother Earth ? Joys and their memory pass away, But griefs are deeper ploughed than they !" Heaven will equalize all ! The soul that breathes its aspiration for such perfection, can never receive amiss what Heaven sends. A Father. TO A BEREAVED MOTHER. " I FEEL for you, dear Madam, in the loss you have felt ; but more especially, as there appeared something Df a doubt, whether you could say, with full assurance, the child is blessed. I have known several Christians troubled with doubts on this head ; and few things have appeared to me more strange ; for, we may say with truth, what could God have done more than he has done, to prove his love for the infants of the hu- man race ? They were always admitted to be mem- bers of his Church. A regard for them, he mentions as a reason why Nineveh, in which were so many thousand infants, should not, as Jonah desired, be de- stroyed. Our Lord says, " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the king- 16 182 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. dom of God." A great part of mankind die in infan- cy, before they have done any good or evil; and the Saviour declares, that of such little children the king- dom of God is made up ; and as a token of this, he took the little children that were brought him up in his arms, and blessed them, Mark x. They die, by virtue of their connection with Adam in his first trans- gression ; but having done neither good nor evil, in their own persons, they will not be judged according to the deeds done in the body, nor fall under the sentence of the second death, which is pronounced only upon personal wicked deeds ; but being redeemed by the blood of Christ, and written in the Lamb's book of life, they shall be raised up from the first death, which came by Adam, to the enjoyment of eternal life in the heavenly kingdom. — I repeat it, not a soul is destroyed forever, but for wicked works ; they are hypocrites, they are unbelievers, they are impenitent to the last, after warnings, admonitions, and calls, who perish. But what works have infants done that are evil? The Scripture expressly mentions, that they have not sinned after the similitude of Adam's transgression, but never that they suffer the pains of hell. Now, can such a thought be reconciled with the character of God, drawn by himself, as "slow to anger, and of great kindness ;" as swearing, he hath no pleasure in the death of a sin- ner ? It is his strange act to punish. Nothing but a contention against his government to the last, an im- pious denial of his Gospel, or a base, hypocritical as- sent to it, draws down his vengeance. Be assured, fi-om such evidence, our dear children, taken away al- most as soon as we see them, are safe in the hands of their merciful Creator and Redeemer. I hope you are ready to say, with the late excellent Mr. Black, (one of the ministars of Edinburgh^) who thus expressed him- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 183 self on the death of his child, — " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good ; it is his will. Our dear child is now, 1 trust, with Christ in heaven, joined to her kindred spirits around the throne. What a mar- vellous change ! — what a glorious transition ! — from a eick-bed io a throne of glory ; from weeping friends to glorified spirits ; from a world of sin and suffering, to a world of perfect holiness, and endless blessedness ! How inconceivable the expansion of faculties that must take place in the case of an infant, on its first entrance into the unseen world ! It is an almost overwhelming thought, that our sweet babe already knows more than the most perfect saint on earth. Let my soul bless God, that I have been honoured as the instrument of bringing into existence one who is now added to the Redeemer's company above. Soon shall the last trum- pet sound, and the sleeping dust of countless genera- tions awake to life. I shall then see my dear child ; not the feeble infant which she appeared on earth, but a glorified saint, conformed to the image of her blessed Lord. A glorious hope !" " This consideration, dear Madam, should dry up your tears. Your child is now with God, infinitely more happy than you could have made her on earth, — infinitely more happy than you can conceive ; and if you, and your husband, are followers of them who, by faith and patience, inherit the promises, and of Jesus Christ, the author and finisher of faith, you shall one day meet with her amidst the redeemed company, where you shall never more part ; and where " there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are passed away." — Rev. xxi. 4.* -fesw-i ^f * ^^! ®*^' Simpeon of Dublin. ^^^^ j|j 184 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. TO PARENTS BEREAVED OF A CHILD. Extract from a Manuscript Letter qfthe Rev. Mr. Schuuffler of Coti stantinople. On the subject of Infant Salvation, I have no aouht. I have had it in view to write something more thor- oughgoing upon this subject than I have yet seen in print, but my multiphed engagements do not permit it. Suppose the dear Infants all in Heaven. What a glorious victory has been already achieved over the Avorld of darkness ! Already more souls saved than lost ! What depth of meaning those passages of Scrip- ture at once assume which speak of infants, " Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise." " Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." " Their angels do always behold the face of my Father in heaven." " Christ is the propitiation for the sins of the lohole worldj'' — only " those who believe not shall be damned." And around the conception, birth, and infancy of Christ a new and glorious light shines, while the bodily sufferings in which infants also share, and which show them to belong to a sinful race, bring them under some unalterable moral laws, (John xii. 24,) which have immediate reference to life and salvation. However, to understand these subjects, I am satisfied it is necessary to have looked into the graves of darUng children. The night of affliction reveals to our won- dering view the starry firmament of divine love, and divine truths, and the promises given to mourning souls, can be felt and understood by mourners alone. It seems to me, we need infant choirs in heaven, to make up full concert to the angelic symphony. Who will sing like unto them, of the manger, and the swad- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 185 dling clothes, and of the Lord of all, drawing nourish- ment from the bosom of mortal mothers ! True these are themes of infinite interest, and the delight and wonder of angels. But ah ! they are too tender for the Archangel's pow^erful trump — too tender for the thundering notes of seraphim and cherubim. We must have infant choirs in heaven. When on some Sunday School anniversary the multitude of little chil- dren come together, and after hearing some w^ords of tender and affectionate exhortation and advice, they strike up their artless hymn, all the assembly is moved to tears and the single-hearted little ones carry away from the Masters in Israel the palm of eloquence ; and the thrill of their tender voices is felt vibrating in the hearts of t'.ose w^ho heard them, w^ien the most pow- erful speeches are long forgotten. We must have Infant Choirs in Heaven ! And is it no privilege to know one of our dear ones among them ? What an interest does not a father or a moth- er feel in listening to the sweet voices of the children when they know their beloved child is among the hap- py songsters. And is it not incomparably more pre- cious to know them among the songsters in Heaven ! And oh ! with what additional interest, with what quickened anticipations do I now look beyond the grave ! I think of the moment when I shall fold my httle ones to a father's bosom again and that forever^ and tears of joy and gratitude flow down my cheeks involuntarily. Even now while I am writing, the voices of two of Tny childreii^ is it possible ? — yes, of tny children are singing praises unto Him who became a poor babe and a man of sorrow^s for them and for all men. O, let them sing then ! I can only wish to join them soon ! And now, your dear James has gone to unite with 1A* 186 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. them. And while you read this, and it may be weep, he raises his growing notes of praise and gratitude to the Saviour of all men and learns in one minute more of God, and Christ, and Heaven, than you would ever have taught him in all your lives. Oh ! leave them there — all of tliem, and let us but become daily more heavenly-minded, and more ready to join the '' Angels who stand round the throne, And view my Immanuel's face." And the — " Saints who stand nearer than they ! !" All those redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, and called close around the steps of His Throne to sing the song,^ — not of creation and providence only, but of redeeming love and sovereign grace. THE CHRISTIAN PARENT IN BEREAVEMENT. No sooner was its last struggle over, than the little corpse, with ashes put into its hand, was adorned again with clean linen, flowers, citrons, wreaths, ifec, which, indeed, could only die and decay with it ; and which afforded but a poor and momentary agreeableness to the eye ; but how beautiful must that adorning be with which our heavenly Father clothes the soul in his own presence, in the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of his holy angels ! Our chief hindrance to entire resignation is, that we are so much addicted to things present and visible, while eternal realities are as yet so foreign to us, and so little known. But could we take one glance at the condition of a spirit thus departed, we should never re- gret and lament, as we are apt to do, the decease of rel- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 187 atives and friends, but our grief would rather be on ac- count of the dim-sightedness of weeping survivors. Surely, when the door of paradise is opened to let in any of our departed friends, delicious breezes blow through it upon us from that abode of blessedness. And we ought to avail ourselves of such refreshing in- fluence ; we ought to let it quicken us in following after those who have gone before us, rather than wish those friends back again to a world hke this. Who could ever think of congratulating any that have been enjoy- ing heavenly rest and security for ten, a hundred, or a thousand years together, upon their having to return back again to the perils and dangers of the present life ; Why, then, should we regard it as an affliction that any one of our number has escaped from such perils, and is only entered into perfect peace and security ? If a va- cancy has been made in the family circle, let it also be remembered that another vacancy has been filled up in heaven. The nearer we in this world are approaching to the end of all things, the more welcome should be the thought of dying ; because every departed Chris- tian finds that the multitude of the blessed is increas- ingly outnumbering the militant remnant ; and because the whole family of God are thus successively gather- ing in, that we may all be together for ever with the Lord.* Parents should feel in reference to the death of their children, as did a pious woman who, being ill, was ask- ed whether she were willing to hve or die? She an- swered, " which God pleaseth." " But," asked one of her friends, " if God should refer it to you, which would * From a Letter of Rev. J. A. Bengel, after the death of a child. 189^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. you choose?" She repUed, " Truly, if that were the case, I would even refer it to him again."* Thus leave your children in the hands of God, assu- red that he will order all things well, and that whether your child lives or dies it will be for its glory and your gain.t THE STAR IN THE EAST. In one of those quiet, secluded valleys of the Alps, near the lake's wild margin, embosomed by snow-crown- ed mountains, hes the little village of Geneva. In its midst stood the moss-covered cottage of Bolien. The departing radiance of a summer's sun played cimong the leaves of the flowers, and the mountains and tall trees were inverted in the pure waters, now stilled be- neath the deep blue sky of heaven. The windows of Bolien's cottage were thrown open, the curtains drawn aside, and there watched the wife of the faith- ful pastor over her dying child. Now she parted the damp curls from his brow, and then pressed her hps on his little cold fingers, which she held in her hand. Fervently the silent prayer ascended, that the night of sorrow might pass, and the storm of agony be stilled in her bosom ; then, as the babe turned restlessly in her lap, in a low tone she sung. Sleep, baby, sleep. Once more upon my breast. Thine aching head shall rest, In quiet sleep. Sleep, baby, sleep. Sweetly thine eye is closing, * Anecdote, Christian Graces, p. 1.63. Whitecross' Anecdotes on O. T. p. 374, vol. ii. t Game's Letters from the East, vol. i- p. 146, and p. 180. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 189 Calmly thou'rt now reposing-, In slumber deep. Sleep, angel baby, sleep : Not in thy cradle bed Shall rest thy little head, But with the quiet dead, In dreamless sleep. As the mother looked on her boy, she saw that his little limbs were stiff with the icy chill of death. A smile was on the cherub face, and the long lashes were closed over the blue eyes. Sweet Babe ! no wonder that thy mother's heart is broken when she looks on her only child, — dead ! The kind-hearted villagers made a little grave among the trees, — and on the third day, when the morning sun shone upon the Alpine mountains, they took from the mother's bosom her lit- tle one, and laid it in the ground ; and then they looked along the narrow and wild defile of the mountain for their Pastor, who had been some days absent. At evening the wife of Bolien sat alone in her cot- tage. She looked upon the lake. A beautiful light was on its waters. She raised her head. It was the star in the east ; and it came and stood over the place where the young child was. Upon her darkened soul it rose as the star of hope — the dawning of that light, which had been for a while withdrawn. " I shall re- joice in Him who was born King of the Jews, — for he hath gathered the sheep in his arms, — and he carries the lambs in his bosom," she exclaimed, — and her feel- ings were calmed, — her broken spirit found repose. That night the villagers welcomed their beloved Pas- tor. No one dared tell him his only son rested beneath the sods of the valley. As he passed from among them, into his own cottage, from which the little light was faintly gleaming, they uttered the heartfelt ben- 190 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ediction, " Peace be within this dwelUng." The em- brace of the Pastor and his wife was close and affec- tionate, and then the eye of the father glanced on the cradle which stood in its accustomed place. " The baby sleeps," he said. " Blessed be God who has pre- served you both !" The mother turned to wipe the tears from her eyes, as she replied, "Yes, the baby sleeps, — you cannot wake him." — The fearful truth did not enter the mind of Bolien, and he seated him- self to partake of some simple refreshment which was set before him. " Your countenance is sad," he ex- claimed, as he looked upon the face of his wife. " Me- thinks your heart should be full of joy. What shall we render to the Lord for all his goodness !" The struggle in the countenance of the afflicted mother was too agonizing to escape the notice of Bolien, and, as he took her hand in his, he exclaimed, " Tell me, I beseech you, what has happened. Christianity I know is not secure, even among the Alpine valleys. It may be, that we are yet to cross the mountains of ice and snow, and seek shelter from those who persecute us for righteousness sake. Tell me, wliat has befallen us, that you weep thus?" The eye of the heart-stricken mother glanced towards the cradle of her babe, and there needed no comment. The Pastor fell on his knees, and uttered, '• Our child is dead .'" — then bu- ried his face in his hands, and wept aloud. An hour passed, — and the Pastor and his wife min- gled their tears at the grave of their child. Sweetly did the star in the east shine on that little mound. — As Bolien uncovered his head, and gazed upward, he ex- claimed, " The Star of Bethlehem shall be our guide to that land which needeth no star to shine upon it! for the glory of God shall lighten it ; and the Lamb is the light thereof !" SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 191 )«. "We must enter into the designs of God, and try to receive the comforts that he bestows. We shall soon fmd him whom we seem to have lost ; we approach him with rapid strides. Yet a litle time and we shall shed no more tears. We shall die ourselves. Him whom we love lives, and will never die. This is what we be- lieve ; if we believe it rightly, we shall feel in respect to our fiiends as Jesus Christ wished that his disciples should feel with regard to him when he rose to heaven. " If you loved me," said he, " you would rejoice" in my glory. But we weep for ourselves. For a true friend of God, who has been faithful and humble, we can only rejoice at his happiness, and at the blessing that he has left upon those who belonged to him on earth. Let your grief then be soothed by the hand of him who has afflicted you. — Fenelo?t. Be reconciled, therefore, to the loss of your children. Ever remember they are loans entrusted to you, to be reclaimed hereafter, and you should always stand ready to acknowledge the debt, and pay it back again with a cheerful and composed mind. " The Lord gave, and he hath taken away ;" he lent, and he hath recalled the precious loan, " Blessed be the name of the Lord." This couplet should be written upon all your children : " The dear delights we here enjoy, And fondly call our own, Are but short favours borrowed now, To be returned anon." The Almighty permits you to have children, without any security for a continued possession. Be thankful for them while you enjoy them. Be humble and re- signed when he comes and calls for them. It was a 192 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. noble saying of one of the ancients, upon the tidings of his son's death, " I knew that 1 begat a mortal." If, then, he takes your offspring away in infancy or child- hood, let this thought comfort you, that it is to render them more happy than you could make them. He takes them from a world of sin, to a world of satisfac- tion. They are taken from being dandled upon the knee, to be cherished in His bosom. The gems are taken from your cabinet, to be brilliantly set in the Sa- viour's mediatorial crown. The great and good hus- bandman transplants them from an earthly soil to the heavenly paradise, where they will flourish in unde- caying beauty and immortal bloom. In heaven there may be taller — older — and more majestic plants, but none more fragrant and lovely than those dear babes, " Who died for Adam sinn'd, But live, for Jesus died.'' Comfort, therefore, yourselves, ye bereaved parents, vmder the loss of your children, whether at the birth, in infancy, in childhood, or in youth ; and say, " Behold? he taketh away, and who shall hinder." Contemplate the pleasure of meeting them again, and spending an eternity together in singing the praises of God and the Lamb, through whose love and merits alone you and your infant seed attain to such an elevation of glory and felicity. — From Maternal Solicitude. If we are sorrowing under a misfortune, of which this world affords no alleviation, the death of those most dear to us, let us humbly offer to our God the beloved whom we have lost. And what (after all) have we lost ? — the remaining days of a being, whom we indeed loved, but whose happiness we do not consider in our SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 1^ regret ; who, perhaps, was not happy here, but who certainly must be much happier with God; and whom we shall meet again, not in this dark and sor- rowful scene, but in the bright regions of eternal day, and partaking in the inexpressible happiness of eterni- ty. — Fenelon. Thus it is with God ; his parental heart does not wish to grieve us ; he must wound us to the very heart, that he may cure its malady. He must take from us what is most dear, lest we love it too much, lest we love it to the prejudice of our love for him. We weep, we despair, we groan in our spirits, and we murmur against God ; but he leaves us to our sorrow, and we are saved ; our present grief saves us from an eternal sorrow. He has placed the friends whom he has taken from us in safety, to restore them to us in eternity. He has de- prived us of them, that he may teach us to love them with a pure love, a love that we may enjoy in his pres- ence forever ; he confers a greater blessing than we were capable of desiring — Fenelon. In another life we shall see and understand the won- ders of his goodness, that have escaped us in this, and we shall rejoice at what has made us weep on earth. Alas, in our present darkness, we cannot see either our true good or evil. If God were to gratify our desires, it would be our ruin. He saves us by breakmg the ties that bind us to earth. We complain because God loves us better than we know how to love ourselves. We weep because he has taken those whom we love aWay from temptation and sin. We would possess all that delights and flatters our self-love, though it might lead us to forget that we are exiles in a strange land. God 17 194 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. takes the poisonous cup from our hands, and we weep as a child w^eeps when its mother takes away the shin- ing weapon with which it would pierce its own breast. — Fenelon. Have you lost, by death, an object in whom your heart was bound up ; who was in the full enjoyment of Hfe and its prosperity, and in whose society you ho- ped for many years of enjoyment ? Oh ! consider (ere you accuse Providence for the stroke) that this death (apparently so untimely) is, possibly, the greatest in- stance towards you, both of the mercy and love of God. The creature so dear to you, may have been taken from some sad reverse of fortune, or from the commis- sion of some great crime, which might have endangered his salvation. To secure this, therefore, God has re- moved him from temptation. The same loss is, per- haps, a call from God to yourself, and is intended to awaken you from that attachment which was binding you too fast to this world, and causing you to forget your Creator. Thus the stroke which, to secure his future happiness, takes him from the evil to come, de- taches you from the world, and warns you to prepare for your own death, through that of one so dear to you. The pang of separation is, indeed, most bitter, yet our merciful Father does not needlessly afflict his creatures. He wounds, only to heal the diseases of our souls. Let us, then, in the hour of calamity, hold fast by this con- viction, and say with Job, " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him." His mercy can be my support here, and my abundant recompense hereafter. — Fene- Ion. How beautiful and affecting is the following language SOLACE- FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 19S of a wise and good parent, respecting his dead children, used in prayer to God, by the late William Hay, Esq., surgeon, Leeds. " I would offer my most hearty and solemn thanks- givings, for thy mercies shown to my dear children. Four of them thou wast pleased to call out of this dan- gerous and sinful world during the state of infancy. I surrendered them to thee in thy holy ordinance of bap- tism, and committed them to thy disposal. Thou didst remove them, ere the pollutions of this world had led iheir corrupt hearts astray, and I humbly hope thou didst receive them to thy glory. Concerning the other four whom thou hast called hence in adult age, thou hast graciously given me the most solid hopes. Though by nature children of wrath, even as others, thou wast pleased to awaken them to a sense of the odious na- ture of sin, and to grant them true repentance. They were early taught by thy grace to llee for refuge to the friend of sinners, and thou didst prolong their lives till they had given clear proofs of a sound conversion.- Though prepared, as I hope, to glorify thee on earth, thou didst dispense with their services, and didst re- move them hence in the beginning of their usefulness. But thy grace was with them. In their sickness, and at the approach of death, they were enabled to rejoice in thy salvation. The last of them I am this day to commit to the silent grave, but in sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection to eternal life. What shall I render to thee for all thy mercies ! O tliat my future life might more abundantly show forth thy praise !" Attend, ye parents, to these sentiments of de- votion. The onl}^ way to part with your children with resignation and hope, should they be removed from you by the stroke of death, is to dedicate them to the 196 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Lord of all, and to bring them up for his service and glory. — The Parents Monitor. CIuinctilian's letter upon the death of his two sons, one of whom was a youth highly accomplished, and of great promise, is beautiful and touching. But in it he boasts of his impatience, thinks it necessary to excuse himself for having survived the stroke, denies the doctrine of a Divine superintendence over the affairs of men, accuses the gods of spite and injustice, and says his tolerance, not his love of life, will revenge his son for the rest of his days. This was all that ethics could do to calm his mind. What will an infidel say to such a scene as contrasted with the faith and pa- tience of the saints ? Will he say that their meek en- durance is the fruit of advanced philosophy ? Q,uinc- tilian lived in an age enlightened by literature, but Rome was far behind Jerusalem in the sublimities of moral precept, because the true light had not radiated its horizon. And then see how Job acted, though in a ruder age, and surrounded by idolatry. Revelation cast a bright hue of heaven over all his sorrows. — Dr. Lawson. God is righteous in taking from us. He is merciful in sparing to us what he has not taken. If it had pleased God to cut off the half of our famihes, it would have been our duty to have given him thanks that the other half was left. I bless God for the hope of seeing those whom I have lost with greater pleasure than ever, but I have still more reason to bless him for the gift of his own Son to such unworthy creatures as 1 am, that through faith in him I may have everlasting liffe. — Dr. Lawso7i. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 197 When God imposes a sacrifice upon us, or takes from us some object, he does not leave us to endure the stroke unsustained ; but if through the veil of sorrow which he spreads over us, we look up to Him, we shall by the means of our mortal trials, reap everlasting joys. We are not to enquire of God why he appoints us such trials, when we behold others exempt from them. Can we say how long our hitherto more fortunate fel- low-creatures may continue untried with the like ca- lamities ? It may be, that God sees we have most need of them : If we are faithful in what we understand, how limited soever our imperfect view may be of God's dealings with us, we shall find rest unto our souls, until it please God to dissolve our earthly tabernacle. We know, that then we shall have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Let us, therefore, follow continually that guiding star, which beams upon our darkened way. Let us, with a willing and steady mind, embrace the occasions which each day may offer us of advancing towards our heav- enly country, where we shall find our everlasting home. This is our daily bread, our manna in the wilderness of life : with this let us be content. If we presump- tuously seek to look into futurity, our endeavours will be like the forbidden provision of the Israelites, not only superfluous, but noxious to ourselves. — Fenelon. THE TEACHING OF BAPTISM. Let us now consider the feelings with which parents should retire from the baptismal service. It is a solemn moment when they take the child away from the altar. They have given it to God ; and they bear it away, as the mother of Moses did her own son, to bring it up for another, who, in this case, 198 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. is God. They have, by their vows, promised that the will of God concerning their child shall be their will, so that the question of its hfe or death is left implicitly with him. Though their hearts will bleed if it should be taken away, yet, by the baptismal service, they have engaged to consider the child henceforth as entirely at God's disposal; and whenever they look upon it here- after, the feeling which they are to have is expressed by these words, Sent^ not given. If it dies, they will remember its baptism and their vows, and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, will steal into their breaking hearts. If it lives, it is to be trained up for that God to whom it has been given. Very soon they who are separated will be re-united, and there will appear no trace of the separation. They, who are about to set upon a journey, ought not to feel themselves far distant from those who have gone to the same country a few days before. Life is like a torrent ; the past is but a dream ; the present, while we are thinking of it, escapes us, and is precipitated into the same abyss that has swallowed up the past ; the future will not be of a different nature, it will pass as rapidly. A few moments, and a few more, and all will be ended ; what has appeared long and tedious, will seem short when it is finished. — Fenelon. These infant buds, therefore, that seem nipt on earth, are merely removed to heaven, there to unfold themselves in everlasting bloom. Nature leaves them pining upon earth, Grace takes them in her arms, wraps them in her warm bosom, and wafts them away to the better land. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 199 " See, then, how soon the flowers of life decay, How soon terrestrial pleasures fade away. A star of comfort for a moment giv'n, Just rose on earth, then set to rise in heaVn, Redeem'd by God from sin, releas'd from pain, Its life were punishment, its death is gain. Though it be hard to bid thy heart divide, To lay the gem of all thy love aside, Faith tells thee, (and it tells thee not in vain,) That thou shalt meet thine infant yet again. While yet on earth thine ever-circling arms Held it securest from surrounding harms ; Yet even there disease could aim the dart, Chill the warm cheek, and stop the flutt'ring heart ; No ill can reach it now ; it rests above, Safe in the bosom of celestial love. Its short, but 3^et tempestuous way, is o'er. And tears shall trickle down its cheek no more. Then far be grief; faith looks beyond the tomb. And heav'ns bright portals sparkle through the gloom. If bitter thoughts and tears in heav'n could be, It is thine infant that should weep for thee." Mrs. Wilson writes very sweetly : " It is only my child's moital part that rests in silence ; his spirit ia with God in his temple above. He is one of the re- deemed, who now throng the courts of heaven, and surroimd the throne of the Most High. Boundless perfection constitutes his felicity, unceasing praises dwell upon his lips, his holiness is for ever perfected, and his affections are made to flow in ever-during channels, toward the Source of infinite perfection, and through all those subordinate streams where it is dis- tributed. The light of heaven encircles him, and its splendours delight his soul. His vision is unclouded, and penetrates into the deep things of God. I see him among the glorious throng, now bending in holy adoration of the majesty of heaven, now a commission- ed messenger of mercy to otiier and far distant worlds. 9QQ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Perhaps he hovers now around our dweUing ; perhaps he will stand at heaven's portals, and be the first to usher us into the presence chamber of the King. Shall I then continue to shed unavaihng tears, and selfishly repine at the short, the momentary separation? He will never return to us, but we shall go to him. In regard to our beloved child, we can take up the trium- phant song, ' O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?' " THE HOPE OF A RESURRECTION. LAVEL. Let those mourn without measure, who mourn without hope. The husbandman does not mourn, when he casts his seed into the ground. He expects to receive it again, and more. The same hope have we, respecting our fi-iends who have died in faith. " I would not have you ignorant," says Paul, " concerning them who are asleep, that ye sorrow not as others who have no hope ; for if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so also them who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." He seems to say, "Look not on the dead as lost. They are not annihilated. Indeed, they are not dead. They only sleep ; and they sleep to awake again." You do not lament over your chil- dren or friends, while slumbering on their beds. Con- sider death as a longer sleep, from which they shall certainly awake. Even a heathen philosopher could say, that he enjoyed his friends, expecting to part with them ; and parted with them, expecting to see them again. And shall a heathen excel a Christian in bear- ing affliction with cheerfulness ? — If you have a well- grounded hope that your deceased friend was interest- SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 201 ed in Christ, ponder, I entreat you, the precious sup- ports afforded by the doctrine of the Resurrection of the just. THE DEATH OF A CHILD NO CAUSE OF DESPONDENCY. Dejected mourner, bereft, as you seem, of all joy, you have no cause for despondency. O that you real- ized what blessings God has to bestow on those who submissively wait on him in their affliction ! He has consolations far transcending the joy of children. So others have found. An eminently pious man, having lost an only son, retired for some hours to his closet, and then came forth with such a cheerful countenance, that all who saw him were filled with surprise. Being asked an explanation of this, he replied, that he had enjoyed, in his retirement, that which, if renewed, might well reconcile him to part with a son every day. O how great the disproportion between the light of God's countenance, and the best, the sweetest of cre- ated enjoyments ! The memory of the sainted dead hovers, a blessed and purifying influence, over the hearts of men. At the grave of the good, so far from losing heart, the spiritually minded find new strength. They weep, but as they weep, they look down into the sepulchre, and behold angels sitting, and the dead come nearer, and are united to them by a fellowship more intimate than that of blood. — Rev. W. H. Furness. We are forbidden to murmur, but we are not forbid- den to regret ; and whom we loved tenderly while li^^kig^, wft may still pursue with an aflfectionate re- 202 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. membrance, without having any occasion to charge ourselves with rebeUion against the sovereignty that appointed a separation. — Coivper. WOULD YOU CALL THEM BACK TO THIS UNHAPPY WORLD 1 E.EV. G. WHYTE. Could you be so selfish, and so cruel? Could you wish them back — back from the presence of the Lamb, — back from the sweets of glory to the bitterness of time, — back from those rivers of pure pleasure which flow full and large at God's right hand, to the streams of mingled enjoyment in this vale of sorrow ? After they have reached the haven of rest, would you recall them to struggle again with the storm ? Is there any thing in the state or employments of those who surround the throne which you are called upon to contemplate with sadness, or to deplore in the language of despair ? Is it any subject of regret to them that their sun went down while it was yet day ? LETTER TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD. Dear Madam, — I do most sincerely sympathize with you in your present distressed circumstances. It was only to-day that we heard how it hath pleased your Heavenly Father to take from you your little child. We can easily suppose that you must be over- whelmed with deep affliction ; and we desire rather to weep with you, than to try to stem the torrent of your grief; yet will you bear with us, while we try to call up to your recollection topics of strong consolation. The dear little one is indeed gone ; you shall not any SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 203 more press her to your heart or dandle her on your knee ; her httle pleasing arts shall no more dehght you. And who can wonder that Rachel weeps because her children are not. But will you bear with us, my dear friend, if we say that you have cause for mixing joy with your mourning ? Raise your thoughts, then, from the fears of death and the darkness of the grave to the land of light and holy joy. Consider your daughter as having escaped all the perplexities and sins of an evil world, and ob- taining an inheritance among them who are sanctified. She was your charge for a short time, but God design- ed that she should now be glorified. He therefore sent his angel to fetch her home. The angel gladly de- scended. He saw, that you might for a little have sor- row upon sorrow, but the child should rejoice with joy unspeakable. He left your house a house of mourn- ing, but with him your dear infant rose above the suns, and moons, and stars : the gate of heaven was thrown open, — the angel presented his charge — Jesus smiled wuth ineffable sweetness, and said, " Come, thou blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom pre- pared for you." She was no longer an infant of days; her soul swelled and grew ; a crown was put upon her bead ; she cast it at Jesus' feet, and cried, " To him that loved me and washed me from my sins, to him be glory." See, and now in a white robe she walks with all the saints in the presence of God and of the Lamb. Oh ! my dear friend, amidst all your doubts and fears, what w^ould not some folks give to be as sure as she is of singing for ever the praises of redeeming grace ? You have often prayed for her ; your prayers in substance are answered ; perhaps in heaven she may be praying for you. And much as in this world we mourn the death of friends, when the day comes that her parents 204 SOLACE FOR BERBAVpD PARENTS. must die, it shall, I trust, be to her a day of transport- ing bliss. She will fly to the gate of heaven to wel- come and to embrace you, and so shall you all be for ever with the Lord. Wherefore, while you mourn your own loss, let us be permitted to entreat you to comfort one another with these hopes. We are well, thanks be to God ; when you can find conveniency to write to us, be so good as to say when we may expect to see both in . A little absence from home at present might not be unseasonable : and we hope we may say, there are not many who would be more hap- py in the pleasure of your company. With all regard and sympathy, we remain your affectionate friends. CHAPTER VIII SELECTIONS IN POETRY. If there be power in song's harmonious meed, To raise, refine, excite heroic deed. Or crown proud virtue with perennial fame, 'Twas God first gave it with a worthier aim. To hallelujahs— ere this world began, Hymned through all spheres — he waked his image, man ; Touch'd every bosom-chord with grateful love. That earth might join the host of worlds above. The lowliest verse that ever breath'd to impart Its simple fervour to the pious heart. To make praise vocal, and give faith a voice, Gr help the humblest Christian to rejoice, Though feebly lisp'd from childhood's faltering tongue, Yet chimes aloft, where heavenly strains are sung : That spirit pure all human thought above, Still bears it up on wings of holiest love ! When tongues shall cease, and transient science fail, The harps of heaven shall catch the undying tale, Past ruin's power shall sacred truth embalm The hallowed hymn, the heavenly breathing psalm : Strains now unhonoured in this world's esteem. When earth sinks mute, shall be the seraph's theme, And all the choirs of blessedness employ, The still sweet song of everlasting joy ! INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. " The great end of Poetry is to instruct, at the same time that it gives pleasure. By the decorations of ele- gance, and the harmony of numbers, it is well calcu- lated to win its way both to the heart and understand- ing, — like a still and placid stream which beautifies and enriches all around it. Hence from the earliest ages, when the first hymn of praise, as it were the song of the morning star, was borne on the wings of the cherubim 206 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. to the throne of glory, Poetry has ever been a principal medium for communicating instruction to the mind, and captivating the affections of the heart. The truth of this remark is well illustrated by the use which all know has been made of it by the poets of the Ancients, to instruct in the various arts and sciences, as well as to incite to deeds of heroism, and to lives of virtue." " In times of bereavement, the mind often becomes utterly depressed and bewildered at its inability of ex- pression, and it turns instinctively to the language of another : to ' the deep sad harmonies that haunt the breast of the Poet,' who has foreshadowed a portraiture of our own hearts ; and we are comforted by the assu- rance it gives, that our state is not peculiar. In our weakness of grief we are apt to feel as if alone ; as if set apart as a mark for the shafts of adversity ; but we now learn the fact, that we are only one of the great brotherhood of sorrow." " In moments of affliction, we often shrink from the incompetence of those who, from their genuine kindli- ness of heart, obtrude their sympathy upon us. The commonplace generalities to which such persons resort, revolt us, as heartless and hackneyed ; the human voice, even, assumes a dissonance, when it urges us to forget a grief over which the heart yearns with a de- voted tenderness, feeling as if relief were a treason to the beloved object. Few can afford consolation in pe- riods like these — few should attempt it." " The Poet is the interpreter of the human heart — the expounder of its mysteries. An utterance is given to him, which is denied to others, even although their feeUngs may be akin to his own. Through him Truth speaks : and wild or wayward as may seem her revela- tions, yet it is the common sentiment, the universal SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 207 emotioiij she speaks ; she gives the germ of a nobler principle, the incentive to a higher hope." " We weep over his words, reUeved by a strange sympathy ;" find through him a voice and utterance for thouglits too deep for expression ; and are at once re- lieved, comforted, and instructed. THE EVENING CLOUD. A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow ; Long had I watched the glory moving on, O'er the still radiance of the lake below ; Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow, E'en in its very motion there was rest. While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west. Emblem, how bright of dying infant souls. To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is giv'n, While mercy's breath its flight securely rolls. Right onward to the golden gates of heaven ; Where to the eye of faith it peaceful hes. And tells to weeping friends its glorious destinies. {Altered from Professor WilMOtK CASA WAPPY.* And hast thou sought thy heavenly home. Our fond, dear boy — The realms where sorrow dare not come, Where life is joy ? Pure at thy death as at thy birth. Thy spirit caught no taint from earth ; Even by its bliss we mete our death, Casa Wappy ! • From " Domestic Verses, by Delta" (D. M. Moir, Esq.), 1843. Casa Wappy was the self-conferred pet name of an infant son of the poet> snatched away after a very brief illness. 208 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Thou wert a vision of delight To bless us given ; Beauty embodied to our sight, A type of heaven : So dear to us thou wert, thou art Even less thine own self than a part Of mine and of thy mother's heart, Casa Wappy ! Thy bright brief day knew no decline, 'Twas cloudless joy ; Sunrise and night alone were thine. Beloved boy ! This morn beheld thee blithe and gay, That found thee prostrate in decay. And ere a third shone, clay was clay, Casa Wappy ! Gem of our hearth, our household pride. Earth's undefiled; Could love have saved, thou hadst not died, Our dear, sweet child ! Humbly we bow to Fate's decree ; Yet had we hope that Time should see Thee mourn for us, not us for thee, Casa Wappy ! Do what I may, go where I will, Thou meet'st my sight ; There dost thou glide before me still — A form of light ! I feel thy breath upon my cheek — I see thee smile, I hear thee speak — Till, oh ! my heart is like to break, Casa Wappy ! Methinks thou smil'st before me now, With glance of stealth ; The hair thrown back from thy full brow In buoyant health : I see thine eyes' deep violet light, Thy dimpled cheek carnationed bright, Tliy clawing arms so round and white, Casa Wappy I SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 20^ The nursery shows thy pictured wall, Thy bat, thy bow, Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball ; But where art thou ? A corner holds thine empty chair, Thy playthings idly scattered there. But speak to us of our despair, Casa Wappy ! Even to the last thy every word — To glad, to grieve — Was sweet as sweetest song of bird On summer's eve ; In outward beauty undecayed, Death o'er thy spirit cast no shade, And like the rainbow thou didst fade, Casa Wappy ! Snows muffled earth when thou didst go, In life's spring-bloom, Down to the appointed house below, The silent tomb. But now the green leaves of the tree, The cuckoo and the " busy bee," Return — but with them bring not thee, Casa Wappy ! 'Tis so; but can it be (while flowers Revive again) — Man's doom, in death that we and ours For aye remain ? Oh ! can it be, that o'er the grave The grass renewed should yearly wave, Yet God forgert our child to save ? — Casa Wappy ! It cannot be : for were it so Thus man could die, Life were a mockery, Thought were wo, And Truth a lie ; Heaven were a coinage of the brain, 210 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Religion frenzy, Virtue vain, And all our hopes to meet again, Casa Wappy ! Then be to us, O dear, lost child ! With beam of love, A star, death's uncongenial wild Smiling above; Soon, soon thy little feet have trod The skyward path, the seraph's road, That led thee back from man to God, Casa Wappy ! * * * * Farewell, then — for a while, farewell — Pride of my heart ! It cannot be that long we dwell, , Thus torn apart : Time's shadows like the shuttle flee: And, dark howe'er life's night may be, Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee, Casa Wappy ! BY THE BEDSIDE OF A SICK CHILD. David, therefore, besought God for the child. — 2 Sam. xii, 16. Now all is done that love, and care. And skilful kindness could suggest ; And he who heard our anxious prayer, Will answer as his love thinks best : O, that both hopes and fears were still Waiting on his mysterious will And yet, both hopes and fears will crowd Around that bright and precious child ; And both will speak their thoughts aloud. Till this distracted heart is wild : O might they all give place to one Heart filling prayer, — '• God's will be done." Sometimes a dream of what may be, Comes, like soft sunshine, o'er the heart ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 211 I hear his prattle at my knee, Feel his warm cheek near mine, and start To find it — ah ! so cold and pale, That hope (and well-nigh faith) doth fail. And then, again, the dream returns, — Childhood and youth are safely o'er ; His eye with manhood's ardour burns, Tears hover round his path no more : Hopes with their buds and blossoms, all Burst, where his bounding footsteps fall. He seems to speak — with anxious ear, My very heart waits breathless by ; His lips are parted, — and I hear. My precious babe, thy restless cry ; — E'en hope, affrighted, flees away, As if it had no heart to stay. Come then, my God, and take the place Of these distracting hopes and fears ; 'Stablish this trembling heart with grace. Dry with thine hand these falling tears ; And teach me to confide in thee The treasure thou couldst trust with me. Happy if, rescued from the strait Of being called on to decide. Here with submissive soul, I wait. By thy decision to abide, — Life, with its blessings and its pain, Or death, with its, " to die is gain " THE SICK CHILD'S DREAM OF HEAVEN. " And bade me be glad to die." By Robert Nicoll, Scotland's second Bums. ^' O MiTHER, mither, my head was sair, And my een wi' tears were weet. But the pain has gane for evermair, Sae mither dinna greet ; 212 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. And I ha'e had sic a bonnie dream, Since last asleep I fell, O' a' that is holy an' gude to name. That I have wauken'd my dream to teli. I thought on the morn o' a simmer day, That awa' through the clouds I flew, While my silken hair did wavin' play 'Mang breezes steep'd in dew ; And the happy things o' life and light Were around my gowden way, As they stood in their parent Heaven's sight In the hames o' nightless day. An' songs o' jve that nae tongue may tell^ Frae their hearts cam' flowin' free. Till the starns stood still, while alang did swell The plaintive melodic : And ane o' them sang wi' my mither's voice, Till through my heart did gae That chanted hymn o' my bairnhood's choice, Sae dowie, saft, an' wae. Thae happy things o' the glorious sky Did lead me far away, Where the stream o' life rins never dry, Where nathing kens decay ; And they laid me down in a mossy bed, Wi' curtains o' spring leaves green, And the name o' God they praying said, And a light came o'er my een. And I saw the earth that I had left, And I saw my mither there ; And I saw her grieve that she was bereft O' the bairn she thought sae fair ; And I saw her pine till her spirit fled — Like a bird to its young one's nest — To that land of love ; and my head was laid Again on my mither's breast. And, mither, ye took me by the hand, As ye were wont to do ; 80LAC£ FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ^^ And your loof, sae saft and white, I fand Laid on my caller brow ; And my lips you kiss'd, and my curling hair You round your fingers wreath'd ; And I kent that a happy mither's prayer Was o'er me silent breath'd ; And we wander'd through that happy land, That was gladly glorious a' ; The dwellers there were an angel band, And their voices o' love did fa' On our ravish'd ears like the deein' tones O' an anthem far away, In a star-lit hour, when the woodland moans That its green is turn'd to grey. And, mither, amang the sorrowless there, We met my brithers three. And your bonnie May, my sister fair, And a happy bairn was she ; And she led me awa' 'mang living flowers, As on earth she aft has done ; And thegither we sat in the holy bowers, Where the blessed rest aboon ; — And she tauld me I was in Paradise, Where God in love doth dwell — Where the weary rest, and the mourner's voice Forgets its warld-wail ; And she tauld me they kent na dule nor care ; And bade me be glad to dee. That yon sinless land and the dwellers there Might be hame and kin to me. Then sweetly a voice came on my ears. And it sounded sae holily. That my heart grew saft, and blabs o' tears Sprung up in my sleepin' e'e ; And my inmost soul was sairly moved Wi' its mair than mortal joy ; — ' Twas the voice o' Him wha bairnies lov'd That waken'd your dreamin' bpy !" 214 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. THE BEREAVED. BY ROBERT NTCOLL. They re a' gane thegither, Jeanie — They're a' gane thegither : Our bairns aneath the cauldrife yird Are laid wi' ane anither. Sax lads and lasses Death has ta'en Frae father an' frae mither ; But O ! we manna greet and mane — They're a' on hie thegither, Jeanie — They're a' on hie thegither. Our eild will now be drearie, Jeanie — Our eild will now be drearie : Our young an' bonnie bairns ha'e gane, An' left our hame fu' eerie. 'Neath Age's hand we now may grane — In poortith cauld may s wither: The things that toddled but an' ben Are a' on hie thegither, Jeanie — Are a' on hie thegither. Now sorrow may come near us, Jeanie — Now sorrow may come near us : The buirdly chields are lyin' low Wha wadna let it steer us. The bonnie lasses are awa' Wha came like sun-glints hither, To fill wi' joy their father's ha' — They're a' on hie thegither, Jeanie — They're a' on hie thegither. In the kirkyard they're sleepin', Jeanie — In the kirkyard they're sleepin' : It may be grieves their happy souls To see their parents weepin'. They're on to bigg a hame for us, Where flowers like them ne'er wither, Amang the starns in love an' bliss — They're a' on hie thegither, Jeanie — They're a' on hie thegither. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 216 THE INFANT'S DYING WAIL. A PARENTAL SKETCH BY THE AUTHOR. The midnight bell had toll'd^and earliest bird Had loud proclaimed the break of coming day. While yet the stars kept watch at gate of heaven, And night winds sighed among the leafless trees. But not to seek repose had now retired The gathered inmates of that cherished home. In silence, sad, they stand collected round The couch, on which is laid a suffering babe. The sun his yearly round had not yet closed, Since first that babe was ushered to the light, Most welcome gift from God's paternal hand. In form most fair and perfect. In spirit Warm, affectionate, and ever mild. His capacious brow, and eye intelligent. Gave noble promise of the mighty powers Still latent, but fast bursting into life. His parents loved him much. Their hearts had bled, The darksome tomb within its bosom closed The buried forms of other children dear. They therefore clung to him as to the dead Revived — the lost ones found — their light and life. For joy o'er him they had forgotten The bitter anguish of that dreadful hour. When two fair buds of life lay crushed and torn. Most sweet it was to see this opening flower Expand its leaves and breathe its fragrance forth — To hear his infant prattle — to behold His looks of love, his first, light, gladsome steps, And all the graces of blest infancy. How have I clasped him to this doting heart, In all the ecstacy of untold jo}" ; And felt, while round my neck his fond arms clung, And his soft cheek press'd mine, that depth of bliss Unutterable, which only parents know. But he was not a destined heir of earth. Nor long to tread its pilgrimage of woe. An angel he — an elect child of grace — An heir of bliss — a heaven-ward voyager. S16 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. His vacant throne for him was kept reserved, And sister spirits longed to see him come. A glorious crown of life, a sceptre bright, And glittering robes, awaited him above. . God had now called his child, and forth had sen The ministering host to g^iard him home. And swift to loose his bonds of earthly mould, To fierce disease had given him a prey. For ten long days and nights the secret foe. Invisible, his dread commission filled, And baffled all the art of human skill ; Till now at length in death's last struggles lay The sinking form of that most blessed child. No cry escaped his lips — no sigh his breast — Nor sign of murmuring by him was given. But calm he lay — as in God's arms outspread — As into heaven he cast his blissful gaze. And even then had taste of joys to come. It was the theme of all — I picture not — How unrepiningly he met his fate — Amid despair, most tranquil and serene ; With tearless eyes, while none around were dry, Outworn with agony he now lay stretched Upon his downy pillow, there to die. Resigned by parents' arms, he bid farewell To earthly scenes and all terrestrial joy. His bright eye dimmed — his palsied limbs lay cold And motionless. His heaving breast rose high — Tifl with a dove-like wail he sunk to rest. God speed thee in thy flight, my blessed boy I Let angel bands conduct thee safe to heaven. There with thy sisters dear to share its bliss ! Thou wert to me the dearest joy of earth, And I would now rejoice with thee above. And chide my selfish grief with thoughts of thee, As now enroU'd among the cherub throng. Farewell, my boy ! no more thy smile I'll see Till thee I meet around the throne of God. But never from this heart shall pass away Thy dying form, and that last dying wail. Charleston, Nov. '21th, 1841. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 217 "OP SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.'*^ MARY S. B. DANA. I DEARLY love a little child, And Jesus loved young children too ; He ever sweetly on them smiled, And placed them with his chosen few. When, cradled on its mother's breast, A babe was brought to Jesus' feet, He laid his hand upon its head, And bless'd it with a promise sweet. " Forbid them not !" the Saviour said, " Oh ! suffer them to come to me ! Of such my heavenly kingdom is — Like them may all my followers be !" Young children are the gems of earth. The brightest jewels mothers have ; They sparkle on the throbbing breast, But brighter shine beyond the grave. A MOTHER'S LAMENT. MONTGOMERY. I LOVED thee, daughter of my heart ; My child, I loved thee dearly ; And though we only met to part, — How sweetly ! how severely ! — Nor life nor death can sever My soul from thine forever. Thy days, my little one, were few ; An angel's morning visit, Thatxame and vanish'd with the dew; 'Twas here, 'tis gone, where is it? Yet did'st thou leave behind thee A clue for love to find thee. The eye, the lip, the cheek, the brow, The hands stretch'd forth in gladness, All life, joy, rapture, beauty now ; Then dash'd with infant sadness ; 19 218 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Till, brightening by transition, Return'd the fairy vision : — Where are they now ? — those smiles, those tears, Thy mother's darling treasure ? She sees them still, and still she hears Thy tones of pain or pleasure, To her quick pulse revealing Unutterable feeling. Hush'd in a moment on her breast, Life, at the well-spring drinking ; Then cradled on her lap to rest In rosy slumber sinking, Thy dreams — no thought can guess them ; And mine — no tongue express them. For then this waking eye could see, In many a vain vagary. The things that never were to be, Imaginations airy ; Fond hopes that mothers cherish, Like still-born babes to perish. Mine perish' d on thy early bier ; No, — changed to forms more glorious, They flourish in a higher sphere, O'er time and death victorious ; Yet would these arms have chain'd thee, And long from heaven detain'd thee. Sarah ! my last, my youngest love, The crown of every other ! Though thou art born in heaven above, I am thine only mother, Nor will affection let me Believe thou canst forget me. Then, — thou in heaven and I on earth, — . May this one hope delight us, That thou wilt hail my second birth, When death shall reunite us, Where worlds no more can sever Parent and child for ever. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 219 THE THREE SONS ; OR, FAITH TRIUMPHANT. BY REV. J. MOULTRIE, A.M. I. I HAVE a son, a little son, A boy just five years old, With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, A mind of gentle mould. They tell me that unusual grace In all his ways appears. That my child is grave, and wise of heart, Beyond his childish years. I cannot say how this may be, I know his face is fair. And yet his chiefest comeliness Is his sweet and serious air. I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me. But he loveth yet his mother more, With grateful fervency. But that which others most admire, Is the thought that fills his mind. The food for grave, inspiring speech, He everywhere doth find. Strange questions doth he ask of me. When we together walk ; He scarcely thinks as children think, Or talks as children talk. Nor cares he much for childish sports, Dotes not on bat or ball. But looks on manhood's ways and works, And aptly mimics all. His little heart is busy still, And oftentimes perplexed With thoughts about this world of ours, And thoughts about the next. 220 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. He kneels at his dear mother's knees, She teaches him to pray, And strange, and sweet, and solemn, then, Are the words which he will say. Oh, should my gentle child be spared, To manhood's years, like me, A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be. And when I look into his eyes. And on his thoughtful brow, 1 dare not think what I should feel, Were I to lose him now. II. I have a son, a second son, A simple child of three ; I'll not declare how bright and fair His little features be. I do not think his light blue eye Is like his brother's keen, Nor his brow so full of childish thought As his hath ever been. But his little heart's a fountain pure. Of kind and tender feeling, And his every look's a gleam of light. Rich depths of love revealing. When he walks with me, the country folk, Who pass us in the street* Will shout for joy, and bless my boy. He looks so mild and sweet. A playfellow is he to all, And yet, with cheerful tone. Will sing his little song of love. When left to sport alone. His presence is like sunshine, sent To gladden home, the earthy SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 221 To comfort us in all our griefs, And sweeten all our mirth. Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove. As sweet a home for heavenly grace, As now for earthly love. And if, beside his grave, the tears Our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love Which we shall lose in him III. I have a son, a third sweet son. His age I cannot telJ, For they reckon not by years and months, Where he hath gone to dwell. To us, for fourteen anxious months. His infant smiles were given, And then he bade farewell to earth, And went to live in heaven. I cannot tell what form is his, What looks he weareth now, Nor guess how bright a glory crowns His shining seraph brow. The thoughts that fill his sinless soul. The bliss which he doth feel, Are numbered with the secret things Which God will not reveal. But I know, for God hath told me this, That he is now at rest, Where other blessed infants are. On their Saviour's loving breast. Whate'er befalls his brethren twain, His bliss can never cease ; Their lot may here be grief and fear, But his is certain peace. ^^'-^ 't*i >« -^^ 222 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. It may be that the tempter's wiles Their souls from bliss may sever, But, if our own poor faith fail not, He must be ours forever. When we think on what our darling- is, And what we still must be ; When we muse on thai world's perfect bliss, And this world's misery ; When we groan beneath this load of sin, And feel this grief and pain, Oh, we'd rather lose our other two. Than have him here again. THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. ALARIC A. WATTS. " Fare thee well, thou first and fairest ! Fare thee well, thou best and dearest !" Burns. My sweet one, my sweet one ! the tears were in my eyes When first I clasped thee to my heart, and heard thy feeble cries ; — For I thought of all that I had borne as I bent me down to kiss Thy cherry lip and sunny brow, my first-born bud of bliss ! I turned to many a withered hope, — to years of grief and pain ; — And the crue] wrongs of a bitter world flashed o'er my boil- ing brain — I thought of friends grown worse than cold, of persecuting foes, — And I asked of Heaven, if ills like these must mar thy youth's repose ! I gazed upon thy quiet face — half blinded by my tears — Till gleams of bliss', unfelt before, came brightening on my fears — Sweet rays of hope that fairer shone 'mid the cloud of gloom that bound them, As stars dart down their loveliest light when midnight skies are round them. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 223 My sweet one, my sweet one ! thy life's brief hour is o'er, And a father's anxious fears for thee can fever me no more; And for the hopes, the sunbright hopes — that blossomed at thy birth — They too have fled, to prove how frail are cherished things on earth ! 'Tis true that thou wert young, my child, but though brief thy span below, To me it was a little age of agony and woe ; For, from the first faint dawn of life thy cheek began to fade, And my heart had scarce thy welcome breathed, ere my hopes were wrapt in shade. O the child, in its hours of health and bloom, that is dear as thou wert then. Grows far more prized — more fondly loved — in sickness and in pain, And thus 'twas thine to prove, dear babe, when every hope was lost, Ten times more precious to my soul — for all that thou hadst cost! Cradled in thy fair mother's arms, we watched thee day by day. Pale, like the second bow of heaven, as gently waste away ; And, sick with dark foreboding fears, we dared not breathe aloud. Sat hand in hand, in speechless grief, to wait death's coming cloud. It came at length ; o'er thy bright blue eye the film was gathering fast, — And an awful shade passed o'er thy brow, the deepest and the last ; — In thicker gushes strove thy breath, — we raised thy droop- ing head, A moment more — the final pang — and thou wert of the dead ! Thy gentle mother turned away to hide her face from me, And murmured low of Heaven's behests, and bliss attained by thee ; — !^4 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. She would have chid me that I mourned a doom so blest aa thine, Had not her own deep grief burst forth in tears as wild as mine ! We' laid thee down in sinless rest, and from thine infant brow Culled one soft lock of radiant hair — our only solace now, — Then placed around thy beauteous corse, flowers, not more fair and sweet ; Twin rosebuds in thy little hands, and jasmine at thy feet. Though other offspring still be ours, as fair perchance as thou, With all the beauty of thy cheek — the sunshine of thy brow, They never can replace the bud our early fondness nurst, They may be lovely and beloved, but not like thee — the first! The first ! How many a memory bright that one sweet word can bring Of hopes that blossomed, drooped, and died, in life's delight- ful spring ; Of fervid feelings passed away — those early seeds of bliss. That germinate in hearts unsered, by such a world as this ! My sweet one, my sweet one, my fairest, and my first ! When I think of what thou migh'st have been, my heart is like to burst ; But gleam's of gladness through the gloom their soothing radiance dart. And my sighs are hush'd, my tears are dried, when I turn ^^■"'- to what thou art ! Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls and takes the stain of earth, With not a taint of mortal life, except thy mortal birth, — God bade thee early taste the spring for which so many thirst ; And bliss — eternal bliss — is thine, my fairest, and my first ! aOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 225 TO MY DEPARTED DAUGHTER. From " Songs of Home.'" Brief time has pass'd, my buried love, Since, seated by thy gentle side, A web of future joy 1 wove, With all a father's fondest pride : Hope's shuttle lies all idle now. The thread is snapped, for where art thou ? Thy glossy curl retains its sheen. The forehead where it waved is dust ; And thus 'twill be, has ever been. With hopes which place their joy and trust On things of earth ; the dearer they, The sooner doomed to know decay. It was such joy to feel thine arm. Thy soft white arm, twine round my neck ; To mark each day some budding charm Steal forth in beauty free from speck, That, gazing on thy dove-like eye, I half forgot that thou could'st die. Thy place is vacant now, my sweet, Thy soft, endearing tones I miss ; No more with light and eager feet Thou com'st to claim a father's kiss : No more thy arch and laughing eye Bids gay defiance to his sigh. There is a spell upon our home. So mirthful once, so silent now ; Thy mother's cheek has lost its bloom. And grief lies heavy on her brow : E'en while she bids me cease to pine. Her tears gush forth and blend with mine. Oh ! my lost child ! thou wert so dear, . So very dear to heart and eye ; So blooming, that the cloud of fear Ne'er shadow'd o'er hope's rosy sky. It came at length, a night of doom, •^' And turned our day to deepest gloom. '•'' SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. The grass above thy grave is green, And fresh as hope was wont to be ; But never in our home, I ween. Will joy shoot forth as cheeringly As erst it did, my gentle child. When thy dear eyes upon us smiled. TO A WIFE ON HER INDULGENCE OP SORROW. From "Songs of Home." I WOULD not chide thee, my lov'd wife, But still I grieve to see Thy spirit thus with God at strife, — Thus mourning his decree ; It is not well, my gentle one. To rivet sorrow's chains. And in our grief for blessings gone, Forget how much remains. 'Tis true a fount of joy has closed, As holy as 'twas sweet ; The smiles on which our souls reposed, No more our bosoms greet. Our spirit's star has lost its light, And set no more to rise ; But there are others warm and bright In our domestic skies : — Two hearts which never yet have known Love's "sere and yellow leaf;" Two souls, the concord of whose tone Has been unmarred in grief: A fond esteem which passing years Have made more fond and warm, — These, then, are but ungrateful tears, Which steal from life its charms. Then grieve not, love, our child is bless'd, Our loss has been her gain ; Her sainted spirit knows a rest Which has no dream of pain ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 287 If fondly still she hovers near Around her once glad home, Say, would it not her bliss impair To see her mother's gloom ? SONNET. EMILY TAYLOR. Mother, revere God's image in thy child ! No earthly gift thy parent arms enfold ; No mortal tongue as yet the worth hath told Of that which in thy bosom, meek and mild. Rests its weak head. O, not by sense beguiled Gaze on that form of perishable mould ; Though first by thee it lived, on thee it smiled, Yet not for thee existence must it hold, For God's it is, not thine. Thou art but one To whom that happy destiny is given. To see an everlasting life begun, To watch the dawnings of the future heaven, And to be such in purity and love As best may win it to that life above ! THE CHILDREN WHOM JESUS BLEST. MRS. HEMANS. Happy were they, the mothers, in whose sight Ye grew, fair children ! hallowed from that hour By your Lord's blessing ! surely thence a shower Of heavenly beauty, a transmitted light Hung on your brows and eyelids, meekly bright, Through all the after years which saw ye move Lowly, yet still majestic, in the might, The conscious glory of the Saviour's love ! And honoured be all childhood, for the sake Of that high love ! Let reverential care Watch to behold the immortal spirit wake, And shield its first bloom from unholy air ; Owning in each young suppliant glance the sign Of claims upon a heritage divine. 2S^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. jFVom " Sacred Dyrics," by R. Huie. The room was narrow, chill, and low ; And from the casement small Scarce light enough was thrown, to show The damp and dingy wall. Beneath whose shade, on pallet bare. Was stretched an humble child of pray'r. Eight times the summer's breeze has fann'd His little pensive brow ; But ah ! the lank and icy hand Of death is on it now : And fast he journeys to the bourne, From which no traveller returns. His wasted limbs, his fevered cheek, His faint and ghastly smile Of deep decay and suffering speak ; — And yet his lips the while For naught but faith in Jesus pray, And patience in this trying day. His mother o'er his pillow bends, To watch his spirit part, And much support his converse lends To her lone widowed heart : For she, too, shares the inward joy And peace, which cheer the dying boy. " Dfear mother," says he, " cease to weep, Of hope my soul is full ; But O ! my little brothers keep At that blest Sabbath school, To which I, under Jesus, owe What I of grace and mercy know. And when, by father's lonely bed. You place me in the ground ; And his green turf, with daisies spread, Has also wrapt me round ; Rejoice to think, to you 'tis given, To have a ransomed child in heaven I" SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 229 O Lord ! how oft do sucklings' lips Thy matchless praise declare ! How oft in faith do babes eclipse The man of hoary hair ! But such is Thine unerring will, In grace and nature sovereign still ! THE MOTHER AND HER DYING BOY. BOY. My mother, my mother, O let me depart ! Your tears and your pleadings are swords to my heart. I hear gentle voices, that chide my delay ; I see lovely visions that woo me away. My prison is broken, my trials are o'er ! mother, my mother, detain me no more ! MOTHER. And will you then leave us, my brightest, my best? And will you run nestling no more to my breast ? The summer is coming to sky and to bower ; The tree that you planted will soon be in flower ; You loved the soft season of song and of bloom ; O, shall it return, and find you in the tomb ? , BOY. Yes, mother, I loved in the sunshine to play, And talk with the birds and blossoms all day : But sweeter the songs of the spirits on high, And brighter the glories round God in the sky: 1 see them ! F hear them ! they pull at my heart ! My mother, my mother, O let me depart ! MOTHER. do not desert us! Our hearts will be drear, Our home will be lonely, when you are not here. Your brother will sigh 'mid his playthings, and say, 1 wonder dear William so long can delay : That foot like the wild wind, that glance like a star, O what will this world be, when they are afar ? This world, dearest mother ! O live not for this ; No, press on with me to the fulness of bliss I 20 230 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. And, trust me, whatever bright fields I may roam, My heart will not wander from you and from home. Believe me still near you on pinions of love ; , Expect me to hail you when soaring above. MOTHER. Well, go, my beloved ! The conflict is o'er ; My pleas are all selfish ; I urge them no more. Why chain your bright spirit down here to the clod, So thirsting for freedom, so ripe for its God ? Farewell, then ! farewell, till we meet at the Throne, Where love fears no partings, and tears are unknown ! BOY. glory ! O glory ! what music I what light ! What wonders break in on my heart, on my sight ! 1 come, blessed spirits ! I hear you from high ; O frail, faithless nature, can this be to die ? So near ! what, so near to my Saviour and King 1 O help me, ye angels. His glories to sing ! ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. J. CUNNINGHAM. Yes, thou art fled, and saints a welcome sing ; Thine infant spirit soars on angel wing ; Our dark aflection might have hoped thy stay, — The voice of God has call'd the child away. Like Samuel early in the temple found — Sweet rose of Sharon, plant of holy ground, O ! more than Samuel blessed, to thee is given. The God he served on earth to serve in heaven. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 231 The following beautiful lines will touch a chord in many a maternal heart, wounded by the hand of death, and sorrowing for those whom God has perhaps in mercy taken from the conflicts of life. HOURS OP A BEREAVED MOTHER. BY MRS. H. M. DODGE. And I am left ! There is a strange delight In counting o'er one's bitterness, to cull A flower of comfort from it. I am left To hear the gathering storms of life, my child, Still tempest-tost upon its dangerous seas, While thou art safely moored. Thy little barque Is anchored in the haven where the winds Of sorrow never blow. Thy star has risen In climes of peace and love, to set no more For ever and for ever. All thy life Was like a rose-bud — like the gentle breath Of purest fragrance, wafted on the wing Of early Zephyr — like the opening ray Of morning's softest blush. Thy little heart Had never tasted w^o. Thy infant breast Was heaven's own dwelling place — it never knew The touch of aught save innocence and love. * * * * Blessed child ! Thy lot on earth was bright, and now thou art With holy angels. I will cease to mourn ! Oh ! had I loved thee less, my foolish heart Had sighed to keep thee in this changing world — Had fastened thee to life, 'till thou hadst drained Its very dregs of wo ! Never ! O, never Could I have knelt and kissed the chast'ning rod With such unfeigned submission. Never ! never Could I have looked so calmly on the smile Thy parting spirit left, had my fond soul Less dotingly hung o'er thee in thy life — Less proudly treasured up thy darling name In the deep recess of my heart. But now Our very lives were one. There could not be A deeper, purer tenderness, than heaved 232^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. This trembling breast for thee. How could I then Ask aught for thee but happiness ? In life, When thou wast closely folded in these arms, And I did feel thy warm breath on my cheek, Thy smiling eyes fixed tenderly on mine, My prayers were full of pleadings, agonies Almost of earnestness, that heaven would bless Thy opening day with joy and every good That might be deemed most proper. Oh, are not These prayers most fully answered? Could my soul In all its deepest gush of tenderness. Have asked a holier boon — a blessedness More durable, more mfinite and pure, More like the nature of a God to give, Than heaven's own self, with all its blessed ones. Its high society, its holy love, Its rapturous songs of gratitude and praise, Its pure celestial streams, and fruits, and flowers, And glorious light reflected from the face Of God's eternal Son ? Could I have claimed A HIGHER boon, my precious babe, for thee ? And then, again, to be exempt from wo And human suffering, for ever free From all the toils, and pains, and nameless cares That gather with our years — and oh ! perchance, At last a hopeless death ! Oh ! I could weep With very gratitude that thou art saved — Thy soul FOR EVER SAVED. What though my heart Should bleed at every pore — still thou art blessed. There is an hour, my precious innocent. When we shall meet again ! Oh ! may we meet To separate no more. Yes ! I can smile. And sing with gratitude, and weep with joy, Even while my heart is breaking ! THE LOST ONE. MARY HOWITT. We meet around the hearth — thou art not there, Over our household joys hath passed a gloom : Beside the Are we see thy empty chair, ^ ^ And miss thy sweet voice in the silent room.— ■^^^"' SQLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 233 What hopeless longings after thee arise ! Even for the touch of thy small hand I nine, And for the sound of thy dear little feet — Alas ! tears dim my eyes, Meeting in every place some joy of thine, Or when fair children pass me in the street. Beauty was on thy cheek — and thou didst seem A privileged being — chartered from decay ; And thy free spirit, like a mountain stream That hath no ebb, kept on its cheerful way : Thy laugh was like the inspiring breath of spring, That thrills the heart, and cannot be unfelt ; The sun, the moon, the green leaves, and the flowers. And every living thing, Were a strong joy to thee — thy spirit dwelt Gladly in life, rejoicing in its powers. Oh ! what had Death to do with one like thee ? Thou young and loving one, whose soul did cling, Even as the ivy clings unto the tree. To those who loved thee — thou whose tears would spring, Dreadmg a short day's absence, didst thou go Alone into the future world unseen. Solving each awful, untried mystery, The unknown to know, To be where mortal traveller hath not been — Whence welcome tidings cannot come from thee ? My happy boy ! — and murmur I, that death Over thy young and buoyant frame had power ? In yon bright land, love never perisheth, Hope may not mock, nor grief the heart devour: The beautiful are round thee — thou dost keep Within the Eternal Presence, and no more Mayst death, or pain, or separation dread : Thy bright eyes cannot weep, Nor they with whom thou art thy loss deplore, For ye are of the living — not the dead. Thou dweller with the Unseen, who hast explored The immense unknown— thou to whom Death and Heaven 20* 234 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Are mysteries no more, whose soul is stored With knowledge for which men have vainly striven, Beloved child ! oh when shall I lie down With thee beneath fair trees that cannot fade? When from the immortal rivers quench my thirst? Life's morning passeth on, Noon speeds, and cometh the dim evening's shade And night: — anon is every cloud dispersed, And o'er the hills of Heaven the Eternal Day shall burst! A FATHER'S LAMENT. WILLIAM HO WITT. *'Thou takest not away, O death I Thou strik'st — and absence perisheth ; Indifference is no more : The future brightens on our sight, For on the past is fallen a light That tempts us to adore." Wordsworth. Two creatures of a pleasant Jife were mine ; My house they filled with a perpetual joy ; Twin lamps that chased all darkness did they shine — My fairy girl and merry-hearted boy. 1 never dreamed Death would their mirth destroy, For they were dwelling 'mid life's freshest springs. And I was busied Avith a fond employ, Ranging the future on Hope's fearless wings. And gathering for them thence how many pleasant things I In truth, I was a proud and joyful man, As from the floor unto the very roof Their murmured bursts of joy and laughter ran, And jocund shouts which needed no reproof — All weariness, all gloom was kept aloof. By their quaint shows and fancies ever new, Now bending age with staff in its behoof. Now Island Crusoe and " Man Friday" true, Now shipmates far at sea with all their jovial crew. But a dark dream has swept across my brain, A wild, a dismal dream that will not break — SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 235 A rush of fear — an agony of pain — Pangs and suspense that inly made me quake. — My boy ! my boy ! I saw thy sweet eyes take A strange unearthly lustre, and then fade ; And oh ! I deemed my heart must surely break, As, stooping, I thy pleasant locks surveyed, And felt that thou must die, and they in dust be laid. Oh ! precious in thy life of happiness ! Daily and hourly valued more and more, Yet, to the few brief days of thy distress, How faint all love my spirit knew before ! I turn and turn, and ponder o'er and o'er, Insatiate, all that sad and dreamy time Thy words thrill through me — in my fond heart's core I heard thy sighs, and tears shed for no crime, And thy most patient love sent from a happier clime. How dim and dismal is my home ! — a sense Of thee spreads through it like a haunting ill ; For thou — for ever, thou hast vanished thence ! This — this pursues me, pass where'er 1 will, And all the traces thou hast left but fill The hollow of thine absence with more pain ; I toil to keep thy living image still. But fancy feebly doih her part maintain ; I see, yet see thee not, my child ! as I would fain. In dreams for ever thy dear form I grasp, In noonday reveries do I rove — then start — And certainty, as with an iron clasp, Shuts down once more to misery my heart ; The world from thee as a shorn flower doth part, Ending its care and knowledge with " Farewell !" But in my soul a shrined life thou art. Ordained with memory and strong hope to dwell. And with all pure desires to sanctify thy cell. Spring like a spirit is upon the earth — Forth gush the flowers and fresh leaves of the tree, And I had planned, with wonder and with mirth — The bird, the nest, the blossom, and the bee To fill thy boyish bosom — till its glee O'erflowed my own with transport ! In far yeaM SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. I felt thy hand in mine, by stream and lea, Wandering in gladness — But these blinding tears, Why will they thus gush forth, though richer hope appears ? Far other land thy happy feet have trod. Far other scenes thy tender soul has known — The golden city of the eternal God, The rainbow-splendours of the eternal throne. Through the pearl gate how lightly hast thou flown ! The streets of lucid gold — the chrysolite Foundations have received thee — dearest one ! That thought alone can break affliction's might, Feeling that thou art blest, my heart again is light. Thanks to the framer of life's mystery ! Thanks to the illuminator of the grave ! Vainly on time's obscure and tossing sea Hope did I seek, and comfort did I crave ; • But He who made, neglecteth not to save — My child I — thou hast allied mc to the blest : I cannot fear what thou didst meekly brave ; I cannot cease to long with thee to rest ; And heaven is doubly heaven with thee, with thee possessed. THE MOURNER'S RETURN. BY SIR r. HESKETH FLEETWOOD, BART., M. F. These lines, written after accompanying the remains of a loved and last child from London to the family resting place in Lancashire, were merely intended for private perusal among those interested in the beautiful^ too highly gifted deceased. — Lancaster Erig. Herald " Who kuoweth not, in all these, that the hand of the Lord hath wrought this ? In whose hand is the soul of every living thing, and the breath of all mankind." — Johy ch. xii. Home of my happier days ! we meet once more, Yet meet we not as we have met before : — Alone and desolate thy hall I tread. Widowed and childless ! mourning o'er the dead. Yet murmuring not that all have passed away, I know, 'twas right, and though I feel — obey. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 237 There was a time recalled by clinging thought, When children clustered round the hearth I sought, — When love e'er welcomed me — when I could turn To clasp my treasures — not embrace an urn. Bright spirits ! from your angel realm above, If ye have watched a father's tears and love, — Behold him seated near the silent dead, Tears of too late repentance vainly shed, Mourning in bitterness of spirit, o'er Lost joys he prized not half enough before. All memory darkened — hope o'ercast a gloom, — The past, the present, and the time to come, AH, all alike — save that, through Faith, mine eye Assays to pierce into Eternity ! Then glorious all appear ; no sin, no death, No sinking spirit, and no failing breath. No fell disease to blight each bud of joy ; Hope without sorrow — peace without alloy ! Father of Mercies ! may redemption bring To my crushed soul " a healing on its wing :" Shed o'er me, Lord, if so thy will design, (For thou alone hast power) thy peace divine ; Blot out my sins, bend low my stubborn will, And — as thou hast been — be my Father still ! Lead me to Heaven — to those thou led'st before, And, through my Saviour, open mercy's door ; That I may feel, whate'er my sorrows be, " / go to them — though they come not to me.''^ RossALL Hall. A DIRGE. From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. Weep not for her ! — Oh she was far too fair, Too pure to dwell on this guilt-tainted earth ! The sinless glory, and the golden air Of Zion, seemed to claim her from her birth ! A spirit wandering from its native zone. Which, soon discov'ring, took her for its own : Weep not for her ! 238 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Weep not for her ! — Her span was like the sky, Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright ; Like flowers that know not what it is to die ; Like long-link'd shadeless months of Polar light ; Like music floating o'er a waveless lake, Whil-e Echo answers from the flowery brake : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — She died in early youth, Ere hope had lost its rich romantic hues ; When human bosoms seem'd the homes of truth, And earth still gleam'd with beauty's radiant dews, Her summer-prime waned not to days that freeze ; Her wine of life was run not to the lees : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — By fleet or slow decay, It never griev'd her bosom's core to mark The playmates of her childhood wane away ; Her prospects wither ; or her hopes grow dark ; Translated by her God, with spirits shriven, She passed as 'twere in smiles from earth to Heaven. Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — It w^as not hers to feel The miseries that corrode amassing years, 'Gainst dreams of bafiied bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down Age's vale of tears, As whirl the wither' d leaves from Friendship's tree, And on earth's wintry world alone to be: Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — She is an angel now, And treads the sapphire floors of Paradise, All darkness wiped from her refulgent brow, Sin, sorrow, suffering, banished from her eyee ; Victorious over death, to her appear The vista'd joys of Heaven's eternal year : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her !— Her memory is the shrine Of pleasing thoughts, soft as the scent of flowers, Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline, Sweet as the song of birds among the bowers ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 239 Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light, Pure as the moonshine of afi autumn night : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — There is no cause for wo ; But rather nerve the spirit, that it walk Unshrinkmg o'er the thorny paths below, And from earth's low defilements keep thee back : So, when a few fleet severing years have flown. She'll meet thee at Heaven's gate — and lead thee on ! Weep not for her ! LITTLE LEONARD'S LAST "GOOD-NIGHT.' " GooD-NiGHT ! good-night ! I go to sleep," Murmured the little child ; — And, oh, the ray of heaven that broke On the sweet lips that faintly spoke That soft " Good-night !" and smiled* That angel-smile ! that loving look From the dim closing eyes ! The peace of that pure brow ! but there — > Aye — on that brow, so young, so fair ! An awful shadow lies. The gloom of evening — of the boughs That o'er yon window wave — Nay, nay, within these silent walls, A deeper, darker shadow falls, The twilight of the grave. The twilight of the grave — for still Fast comes the fluttering breath — 07ie fading smile, one look of love, A murmur, as from brooding dove — " Good-night !" — And this is death I Oh, who hath called thee " terrible !" Mild angel ! most benign ! Could mother's fondest lullaby Have laid to rest more blissfully That sleeping babe, than thine ! 240 SOLACE FOR BER.AVED PARENTS. Yet this is death — the docm for all Of Adam's race decreec' — " But this poor lamb — this little one ! What had the guiltless creature done ?" Unhappy heart ! take heed ; Though He is merciful as just Who hears that fond appeal — He will not break the bruised reed, He will not search the wounds that bleed — He only wounds to heal. " Let little children come to me " He cried, and to his breast Folded them tenderly — to-day He calls thine unshorn lamb away To that securest rest ! Blackwood. THE INFANT'S MINIATURE. Yes ! thou are here, my sainted babe ! Thy lustrous eyes of blue — The long dark fringe which o'er them sleip, As silken curtains drew — The full red lip, the dimpled cheek, The polished, lofty brow — The matchless smile that lighted all — They're here before me now. Yet years, long years, have passed away, Since I, a mother blest, And thou, a babe too fair for earth, Didst nestle to this breast. Thy rosy dreams were not more sweet Than were the moments then ; But all their joys are numbered now With pleasures that have been. The most that I retain of thee Is one small sunny curl ; A treasure I would not exchange For ocean's rarest pearl ; SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 241 Though this bright picture, true to life, Recalls thy infant charms So vividly, I seem again To clasp thee in my arms. 'Tis beautiful to look upon — But only doth portray The casket, which a jewel held That God hath borne away ; For shining in His dazzling crown, Is many an infant gem. And he required this precious one To deck that diadem. And O ! to paint a cherub soul, In vain the artist tries ! For this^ his pencil must be dipped In azure of the skies ; Borrow the rainbow's hue, and make The glittering stars its own ; For angel beauty never yet In earthly colours shone. So let me think of thee, my babe ! As when thou wert of earth ; And, hke this picture, radiant with The smiles of infant mirth. Forget the dismal hour when God Recalled what he had given, And hope to see thee as thou art, And claim thee still in heaven I THE LOVED AND LOST. Time hath not power to bear away . Thine image from the heart, No scenes that mark life's onward way Can bid it hence depart. Yet, while our souls with anguish riven, Mourn, loved and lost, for thee, We raise our tearful eyes to heaven. And joy that thou art free. 21 242 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. We miss thee from the band so dear, That gathers round our hearth, We listen still thy voice to hear Amid our household mirth — We gaze upon thy vacant chair, Thy form we seem to see, We start to find thou art not there. Yet joy that thou art free. A thousand old, familiar things. Within our childhood's home, Speak of the cherished, absent one. Who never more shall come. They virake with mingled bliss and pain Fond memories of thee. But would we call thee back again ? We joy that thou art free ! Amid earth's conflict, wo and care. When dark our path appears, 'Tis sweet to know, thou canst not share" Our anguish and our tears — That on thy head no more shall fall The storms we may not flee — Yes. safely sheltered from them all, We joy that thou art free. For thou hast gained a brighter land, And death's cold stream is past — Thine are the joys at God's right hand, That shall forever last : A crown is on thine angel brow. Thine eye the King doth see. Thy home is with the seraphs now — We joy that thou art free ! HYMN AT TUE BURIAI, OP AN EMIGRANT'S CHILD. BY MRS. HEMANB. Where the long reeds quiver, Where the pines make moian, 3y the forest river, h frnotv bleeps our babe alone. -j: ^ '^ SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 243 England's field-flowers may not deck his grave, Cyprus shadows o'er him darkly wave. . Woods unknown receive him, 'Midst the mighty wild ; Yet with God we leave him. Blessed, blessed child ! And our tears gush o'er his lonely dust, Mournfully, yet still from hearts of trust, Though his eye hath brightened Oft our weary way, And his clear laugh lightened Half our heart's dismay ; Still in hope we give back what was given, Yielding up the beautiful to heaven. And to her who bore him, Her who long must weep. Yet shall heaven restore him From his pale sweet sleep ! Those blue eyes of love and peace again Through her soul will shine, undimmed by pain. Where the long reeds quiver. Where the pines make moan, Leave me by the river. Earth to earth alone ! God and Father ! may our journeyings on Lead to where the blessed boy is gone. From the exile's sorrow. From the wanderer's dread Of the night and morrow, Early, brightly fled ; Thou hast called him to a sweeter home, Than our lost one o'er the ocean's foam. Now let thought behold him With his angel look, Where those arms enfold him, Which benignly took Israel's babes to their good Shepherd's breast When his voice their tender meekness blest. 244 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Turn thee now, fond mother ! From thy dead, oh, turn ! Linger not, young brother, Here to dream and mourn : Only kneel once more around the sod, Kneel and bow submissive hearts to God ! TO A DEPARTED CHILD. Thou art gone ! my precious one ! Gone to the spirit land ! Methinks I see thee there Amid the angelic band ; Removed from earth away, Ere a tear had dimm'd thine To live and sing and stray, 'Mid the flowers of Paradise, But I would not call thee back To sin, and grief, and pain, To tread life's thorny path. With her sorrowing sons again ; For it is a cheerless way, And a thousand ills are near, And every joy its sadness hath, And every smile its tear. Thou art gone ! the laughing eye Shall beam no more for me — No more thy mother's heart shall wake To that voice of childish glee. And he who blest thee oft. His future pride and joy. No more shall twine thy sunny curls, And bless his darling boy. Yet that eye of love, again On my longing sight shall beam, And the little hand shall clasp my own, In my soothing nightly dream. ^^ . And oft that thrilling tone I^Jf Will haunt my soul at even, SOLACE BOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 246 When I sit and weep alone, Like a spirit's voice from heaven. Farewell ! my gentle boy ! Soft be thy cradle bed ! And soft the winds that sigh At eve, around thy head ! Sweet be the early flowers That spring upon thy breast, And kind, and true, the angel-bands, That guard thy lonely rest. THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD. An angel form with brow of light, Watch'd o'er a sleeping infant's dream, And gazed, as though his image bright He there beheld as in a stream. " Fair child, whose face is like to mine, Oh come," he said, " and fly with me ; Come forth to happiness divine, For earth is all unworthy thee. " Here perfect bliss thou canst not know ; The soul amidst its pleasures sighs, All sounds of joy are full of woe. Enjoyments are but miseries. " Fear stalks amidst the gorgeous shows : And tho' serene the day may rise, It lasts not brilliant to its close, And tempests sleep in calmest skies. " Alas ! shall sorrow, doubts and fears Deform a brow so pure as this ! — And shall the bitterness of tears Dim those blue eyes that speak of bliss ! " No, no ! along the realms of space, Far from all care, let us begone : Kind Providence shall give thee grace For those few years thou might'st live on. 01* 'Mij SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. " No mourning' weeds, no sounds of wail Thy chainiess spirit shall annoy ; Thy kindred shall thy absence hail. Even as thy coming gave them joy. " No cloud on any brow shall rest, Nought speak of tombs or sadness there ; Of beings, like thee, pure and blest. The latest hour should be most fair." The angel shook his snowy wings And thro' the fields of ether sped. Where heaven's eternal music rings — Mother — alas ! — thy boy is dead ! THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF. MRS. HEMANS. " Oh ! call my brother back to me, I cannot play alone. The summer comes with flower and bee, — Where is my brother gone ? " The butterfly is glancing bright Across the sunbeam's track ; I care not now to chase its flight — Oh ! call my brother back ! " The flowers run wild — the flowers we sowed Around our garden-tree ; Our vine is drooping with its load — Oh ! call him back to me !" " He would not hear thy voice, fair child ! He may not come to thee ; The face that once like spring-time smiled, On earth no more thou'lt see. " A rose's brief, bright light of joy. Such unto him was given ; Go ! thou must play alone, my boy I Thy , brother is in heaven." SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 247 " And has he left his birds and flowers ? And must I call in vain 1 And through the long, long summer hours, Will he not come again ? " And by the brook, and in the glade, Are all our wanderings o'er? — Oh ! while my brother with me played, Would I had loved him more !" GONE— BUT NOT LOST. BY MRS. ELLEN STONE. Sweet bud of Earth's wilderness, rifled and torn ! Fond eyes have wept o'er thee, fond hearts still will mourn; The spoiler hath come, with his cold withering breath, And the loved and the cherished lies silent in death. He felt not the burden and heat of the day ! He hath pass'd from this earth, and its sorrows, away, With the dew of the morning yet fresh on his brow : — Sweet bud of Earth's wilderness, where art thou now? And oh ! do ye question, with tremulous breath, Why the joy of your household lies silent in death? Do ye mourn round the place of his perishing dust? Look onward and upward, with holier trust ! Who cometh to meet him, with light on her brow ? What angel form greets him so tenderly now 1 ris the pure sainted mother, springs onward to bear The child of her love from this region of care ! She beareth him on to that realm of repose, Where no cloud ever gathers, no storm ever blows : For the Saviour calls home to the mansions above, This frail trembling floweret in mercy and love. There shall he for ever, unchanged by decay, ''J Beside the still waters and green pastures stray ; And there shall ye join him, with earth's ransom'd hdst— Look onward and upward ! " he's gone — but not lost /" 248 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. OH! SAY NOT 'TWERE A KEENER BLOW. T. H. BAYLY. Oh ! say not 'twere a keener blow- To lose a child of riper years, You cannot feel a mother's woe, You cannot dry a mother's tears : The girl who rears a sickly plant, Or cherishes a wounded dove, Will love them most while most they want The watchfulness of love ! Time must have changed that fair young brow ! Time might have changed that spotless heart! Years might have taught deceit — but now In love's confiding dawn we part! Ere pain or grief had wrought decay, My babe is cradled in the tomb : Like some fair blossom torn away Before its perfect bloom. With thoughts of peril and of storm, We see a bark first touch the wave ; But distant seems the whirlwind's form, As distant — as an infant's grave ! Though all is calm, that beauteous ship Must brave the whirlwind's rudest breath ; Though all is calm, that infant's lip Must meet the kiss of death ! LINES ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY DAUGHTER. BY MRS. A. L. ANGIER. " I CANNOT feel that she is dead !" With arms about me flung, Like some bright jewel round my neck, but yesterday she hung. I cannot feel that she is dead ! And oft wnth throbbing ear I list to catch her shout of mirth I loved so well to hear. I cannot feel that she is dead ! And at her cradle side I bend, to watch her gentle breath — my blessing and my _, jiride I SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 249 I cannot feel that she is dead ! This ringlet is as fair As when upon her sunny brow it fell in beauty there. I cannot feel that she is dead ! Her shadow passes by, In every form of grace that glides before my wakeful eye. And when I sleep, a vision bright across my fancy steals : The smile, the tone, the look of love, my early loss reveals. Once more her fairy foot I hear tread lightly on the stair, And I almost answer to the call^ breathed from those lips of air. The rose still blooms, she fondly nursed in spring's soft, ver- nal hours ; Alas ! that she should soonest fade, the fairest of the flowers. Yet, Mother, though thy child be dead, light through thy darkness streams, As on the ear a low voice falls, Hke music in our dreams. To soothe thy sadness, quell thy grief, and check thy tears 'tis given. While thus it whispers — " I have found a better home in heaven. " And, loved ones, as ye watched o'er me, and chased away my fears, 'Tis mine your spirit-guard to be through this dark vale of tears. To shield from sorrow, save from ill, and fix your hopes above — 'Tis this shall be my task of joy, my ceaseless work of love ; Till in the realm of cloudless light, the pure, blest spirit- land, Where no sad thought of parting comes, you join our seraph band." FROM THE PERSIAN. SIR W. JONES. On parent knees, a naked, new-born child, Weeping thou sat' st, while all around thee smiled: So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep, Calm thou may'st smile, when all around thee weep. 950:. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. THE MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. " God loveth a cheerful giver." MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY, " What shall I render Thee, Father Supreme, For thy rich gifts, and this the best of all?" Said the young mother, as she fondly watched Her sleeping babe. There was an answering voice That night in dreams : — " Thou hast a tender flower Upon thy breast — fed with the dews of love : Send me that flower. Such flowers there are in heaven." But there was silence. Yea, a hush so deep. Breathless and terror-stricken, that the lip Blanched in its trance. " Thou hast a little harp, — How sweetly would it swell the angel's hymn ! Yield me that harp." There rose a shuddering sob, As if the bosom by some hidden sword Was cleft in twain. Morn came — a blight had found The crimson velvet of the unfolding bud, The harp-strings rang a thrilling strain, and broke — And that young mother lay upon the earth * In childless agony. Again the voice That stirred her vision : " He who asked of thee, Loveth a cheerful giver." So she raised Her gushing eyes, and, ere the tear-drop dried Upon its fringes, smiled — and that meek smile, Like Abraham's faith, was counted righteousness. DEATH OF AN INFANT SON. From the Scottish Christian Herald. Farewell, my boy, my much lov'd boy I Tears oft shall flow for thee ; , ^p And while this broken heart shall beat "'', '^.^^ Thou'lt ne'er forgotten be. J.. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 261 No laughing welcome greets me now, As I approach the door ; Thy footsteps light are heard no more Upon the parlour floor. Thy merry voice, resounding full Of mirthful song and glee, Is silent now, — no more thou' It smile Upon thy father's knee. Thy little chair is empty now At our once gladsome hearth ; And all is sad and gloomy now, Where all was joy and mirth. But oh ! he only sleeps ; look there, — How beautiful my boy ! His lips are red, — he slumbers, love, — It is indeed my boy. Come near,— his golden ringlets bind, And softly, sweetly sing, As thou wert wont to do, my love ; O strike the sweetest string. And he will smile to thee, his mother, When he awakes again, And clasp thee in his little arms, And make thee glad again. And yet he sleepeth long, love, — Fear cometh on me now : Ah ! feel that cheek,— 'tis cold, 'tis cold,— I And colder still that brow ! « Thou said'st he slept,— O why deceive V Yes ! he but sleepeth still. But 'tis the sleep of death, my love, — It is our Father's will. Oh ! come with me, then, to His throne, And rev' rently adore. And kiss the Almighty hand that Afflicteth us so sore. I.4iv SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. And, oh ! He'll bless and comfort us, He'll not forsake us now, When waters deep encompass us. And Death hath bent his bow. And tho' by Babel's streams we weep,~ And think how glad we've been ; Altho' our harps in silence hang Upon the willows green ; O still our God will gracious be : Forsake us will He never, Till we in Zion dwell with Our little one — for ever. ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT NEPHEW. REV. C. NEALE. Whilst there was hope I wept and prayed ; For weeping, praying, still I said, Who knows if He above may spare The child of bitter tears and prayer ? The child is dead. How short an hour Hath dimmed the radiance of that flower \ In vain 1 wept, in vain I prayed ; The child, the dearly loved, is dead. In vain thy weeping, praying? — no; It is thy Father ; say not so : That prayer, that silent agony, If not for him was heard for thee. Is there not virtue in this hour ? Affliction hath a holy power : 'Tis then that faith best shows its worth, As the bruised leaf breathes fragrance forth. Once more the child of so much love, Hath joined thy family above ; And rising, vanishing from view, Calls thy affection upward too. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 253 UNES TO THE MEMORY OF A BELOVED CHILD. From the Banner of Ulster. H. BROWN. Sweet floweret, on the wastes of time Thy blossoms were unfolding fair — Now gathered to a brighter clime, To bloom in lasting beauty there. Dear little one, thine hour was brief — Young traveller in the vale of woe, Thy lips but kissed the cup of grief. And bade farewell to all below. The Summer beauty decks the grave Where sleeps the all that earth could claim And love, fond love, alone could save. And brood above thy cherish'd name. A father's heart may lonely weep, When gazing on thy lowly tomb ; Yet turns from where thine ashes sleep. And heaven's own light dispels the gloom. But oh ! a mother's spirit hung O'er her last pledge of earthly love, And, while attending, angels sung, Welcom'd her dear one home above. LOW SHE LIES, WHO BLEST OUR EY^S. MRS. NORTON. Low she lies, who blest our eyes Through many a sunny day ; She maj^ not smile, she will not rise, — The life hath past away ! Yet there is a world of light beyond, Where we neither die nor sleep ; She is there of whom our souls were fond, — Then wherefore do we weep ? 254 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. The heart is cold, whose thous^hts were told In each glance of her glad bright eye ; And she lies pale, who was so bright She scarce seem'd made to die. Yet we know that her soul is happy now, Where the saints their calm watch keep ; That angels are crowning that fair young brow,— Then wherefore do we weep ? Her laughing voice made all rejoice, Who caught the happy sound ; There was a gladness in her very step, As it lightly touched the ground. The echoes of voice and step are gone, There is silence still and deep ; Yet we know she sings by God's bright throne,- Then wherefore do we weep? The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe, That lies like a shadow there, Were beautiful in the eyes of all, — And her glossy golden hair ! But though that lid may never wake From its dark and dreamless sleep ; She is gone where young hearts do not break, — Then wherefore do we weep? That world of light with joy is bright, This is a world of woe : Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight, Because we dwell below? We will bury her under the mossy sod. And one long bright tress we'll keep ; We have only given her back to God, — Ah ! wherefore do we weep ? THE THREE LITTLE GRAVES. BY MRS. SIGOURNEY. 1 SOUGHT at twilight's pensive hour The path which mourners tread, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 255 Where many a marble stone reveals The City of the dead ; — The City of the Dead, where all From feverish toil repose, While round their beds, the simple flower, In sweet profusion blows. And there I marked a pleasant spot Enclosed with tender care. Where side by side three infants lay, The only tenants there, — Nor weed, nor bramble rais'd its head To mar the hallowed scene. And 'twas a mother's tears, methought, Which kept that turf so green. The eldest was a gentle girl, She sunk as rose-buds fall, And then too little brothers came, They were their parents' all, — Their parents' all! — and ah, how oft The moan of sickness rose, Before, within these narrow mounds, They found a long repose. Their cradle sports beside the hearth, At winter's eve, are o'er ; Their tuneful tones, so full of mirth. Delight the ear no more : — Yet still the thrilling echo lives, And many a lisping word Is treasur'd in affection's heart, By grieving memory stirr'd. Three little graves ! — Three little graves ! Come hither ye who see Your blooming babes around you smile, A blissful company, — And of those childless parents think With sympathizing pain, And soothe them with a Saviour's words, ^ • - " Your dead shall rise again." " ' "^ 256. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. THEY ARE NOT THERE! They are not there ! where once their feet Light answer to the music beat ; Where their young voices sweetly breathed, And fragrant flowers they lightly wreathed. Still flows the nightingale's sweet song ; Still trail the vine's green shoots along ; Still are the sunny blossoms fair ; — But they who loved them are not there ! They are not there ! by the lone fount, That once they loved at eve to haunt ; Where, when the day-star brightly set. Beside the silver waves, they met. Still lightly glides the quiet stream ; Still o'er it falls the soft moon-beam ; — But they who used their bliss to share With loved hearts by it, are not there ! They are not there ! by the dear hearth, That once beheld their harmless mirth ; Where, through their joy came no vain fear, And o'er their smiles no darkening tear. It burns not now a beacon star ; 'Tis cold and fireless, as they are : Where is the glow it used to wear ? 'Tis felt no more — they are not there I Where are they, then ? oh ! passed away, Like blossoms withered in a day I Or, as the waves go swiftly by, Or, as the lightnings cleave the sky. But still there is a land of rest : Still hath it room for many a guest ; Still is it free from strife and care ; — And 'tis our hope that they are there ! AN INDIAN MOTHER'S LOVE. Os-HE-oAu-MAi, the wife of Little Wolf, one of the Iowa Indians, died while in Paris, of an affection of SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 257 the lungs, brought on by grief for the death of her young child in London. Her husband was unremit- ting in his endeavours to console, and restore her to the love of life, but she constantly replied — " No ! no ! my four children recall me. I see them by the side of the Great Spirit. They stretch out their arms to me, and are astonished that I do not join them." No ! no ! I must depart From earth's pleasant scenes, for they but wake Those thrilling memories of the lost which shake The life sands from my heart. Why do ye bid me stay ? Should the rose linger when the young buds die. Or the tree flourish when the branches lie, Stricken by sad decay ? Doth not the parent dove, When her young nurslings leave their lowly home And soar on joyous wings to heaven's blue dome, Fly the deserted grove ? Why then should I remain ? Have I not seen my sweet-voiced warblers soar, So far away that Love's fond wiles no more May lure them back again ? They cannot come to me ; But I may go to them — and as the flower Awaits the dewy eve, I wait the hour That sets my spirit free. Hark ! heard ye not a sound Sweeter than wild-bird's note or minstrel's lay ? I know that music well, for night and day I hear it echoing round. It is the tuneful chime Of spirit voices ! — 'tis my infant band Calling the mourner from this darkened land To joy's unclouded clime. QO* ^ 258 SOLACE FOR bere:aved parents. My beautiful, my blest ! I see them there, by the Great Spirit's throne ; With winning words and fond beseeching tone They woo me to my rest. They chide my long delay, And wonder that I linger from their home ; They stretch their loving arms to bid me come — Now would ye have me stay? E. S. AN INFANT'S SPIRIT. An infant's soul — the sweetest ibing on earth, To which endowments beautiful are given. As might befit a more than mortal birth — What shall it be, when, 'midst its winning mirth, And love, and trustfulness, 'tis borne to heaven. Will it grow into might above the skies? A spirit of high wisdom, glory, power — A cherub guard of the Eternal Tower, With knowledge filled of its vast mysteries? Or will perpetual childhood be its dower? To sport forever, a bright, joyous thing. Amid the wonders of the shining thrones, Yielding its praise in glad, but feeble tones, A tender love beneath the Almighty's wing. ON SEEING AN INFANT PREPARED FOR THE GRAVE. MRS. SIGOURNEY. Go to thy sleep, my child, Go to thy dreamless bed, — Gentle and undefiled, With blessings on thy head : — Fresh roses in thy hand, Buds on thy pillow laid, Haste from this fearful land Where flowers so quickly fade. Before thy heart had learn'd In waywardness to stray, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Before thy feet had turn'd The dark and downward way ; Ere Sin had sear'd thy breast, Or Sorrow woke the tear, Rise to thy home of jrest In yon celestial sphere. Because thy smile was fair, Thy lip and eye so bright ; Because thy cradle-care Was such a fond delight, Shall Love with weak embrace Thy outspread wing detain ? No ! — Angels, — seek thy place Amid the cherub train. 259 THE EARLY DEAD. " I saw a drop whose trembling ray Was bosomed by a flower — A sunbeam bore the gem away, But Fancy in its airy sway, Pursued it to a brighter day — Gilding a fairer bower."— /f. K. White. I mark'd, where late a blossom grew, In all the pride of young delight, Its petals bore the morning dew. And quafF'd the nectar-springs of night. The culturing touch of love had given This moral flower a softened grace ; And o'er it shone the light of heaven — The glow of hope — the seal of truth — Though desolation's hand had striven To mar it, in its tender youth ! Since withering grass and fading flower Are fitting types of man's brief hour ! The tempest pours its chilling blast — The wild winds echo as they pass — And when their wrath is borne away, Uptorn from earth their victims lay 1 1 ^^v ®^^^^^ ^^^ BEREAVED PARENTS. Again, I mark'd the parent stem — Shorn was it of its treasured boast — The perish'd bud ne'er bloom'd again And yet its fragrance was not lost — Translated to a higher sphere, It found perennial beauty there ! I saw a gem of promise fair — Enshrin'd within its casket rare. A hand of might unclasp'd this token And lo ! the gem was crushed and broken ! But still its glittering fragments lay Reflecting back a purer ray — Gem of the soul ! it soars above, To bask in the Redeemer's love ! ! THE EARLY CALLED. The light of the setting sun Fell on the heaving sea, And the shriek of the sea-bird hastening home Came faintly and mournfully; And sadly the fitful wind did wail As the twilight waned away. And before the light was lost in night, A mortal had changed to clay. The flush of a summer cloud Hung over the gorgeous west, As a mantle of glorious hue, to shroud The close of the day of rest. Or ever the stream of the sunset gleam Was lost in the gloom of even. Another harp to the Saviour's praise Was heard in the courts of heaven. Cold grows her glorious brow With the chilling dew of death ; The sunny eye fades mournfully, The heavy lid beneath. Hushed the melodious lip ; Fainter the pulse — now gone ! SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. And another mourner lives to tread Life's pilgrimage alone. With a solemn step and slow, Come to the place of prayer ! The words of life, the song of death, She never more may hear. Room in the sepulchre ! Room underneath the sod ! The mould is pressed on the bounding breast, The sainted one's with God ! The sun shall rise and set. The stars shall flicker and fade, And one by one, beneath the stone. We shall to rest be laid. What matters it whether we sink to sleep LuU'd by the murmuring billow. Or whether we die on land, and lie With the clod for our only mllow ? From the earth and the mighty aea. The dead shall thronging come, When that wrathful day shall melt away The fetters of the tomb. Then to the loved and lost Shall a crown of light be given. And the cherished here shall triumph there: Meet ye the dead in heaven ! ^61 MOTHER, WHAT IS DEATHS CAROLINE GILMAN. " Mother, how still the baby lies ! I cannot hear his breath ; 1 cannot see his laughing eyes — They tell me this is death. My little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed. And pleasantly I tried to sing — They hushed me — he is dead. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God will bless him in the skies — O, mother, tell me how !" " Daughter, do you remember, dear, The cold, dark thing you brought, And laid upon the casement here, — A withered worm, you thought? I told you that Almighty power Could break that withered shell, And show you, in a future hour. Something would please you well. Look at the chrysalis, my love, — An empty shell it lies ; Now raise your wondering glance above, To where yon insect flies !" " O, yes, mamma ! how very gay Its wings of starry gold ! And see ! it lightly flies away Beyond my gentle hold. O, mother, now I know full well, If God that worm can change, And draw it from this broken cell. On golden wings to range, — How beautiful will brother be, When God shall give him wings. Above this dying world to flee, And live with heavenly things !" A BUTTERFLY AT A CHILD'S GRAVE. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. A BUTTERFLY basked on an infant's grave. Where a lily had chanced to grow ; Why art thou here with thy gaudy dye, Where she of the bright and the sparkling eye Must sleep in the churchyard low ? SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 263 Then it lightly soared through the sunny air, And spoke from its shining track : I was a worm till I won my wings, And she whom thou mourn'st, like a seraph sings — Wouldst thou call the blest one back ? THOUGHTS WHILE MAKING A GRAVE FOR A FIRST CHILD, BORN DEAD. N. P. WILLIS. Room, gentle flowers ! my child would pass to heaven I Ye looked not for her yet with your soft eyes, O, watchful ushers at Death's narrow door ! But lo ! while you delay to let her forth, Angels, beyond, stay for her ! One long kiss From lips all pale with agony, and tears, Wrung after anguish had dried up with fire The eyes that wept them, were the cup of life Held as a welcome to her. Weep, O mother ! But not that from this cup of bitterness A cherub of the sky has turned away. One look upon her face ere she depart ! My daughter ! it is soon to let thee go ! My daughter ! with thy birth has gushed a spring 1 knew not of; filling my heart with tears, And turning Avith strange tenderness to thee ! A love — O, God, it seems so — which must flow Far as thou fleest, and 'twixt Heaven and me, Henceforward, be a sweet and yearning chain, Drawing me after thee ! And so farewell ! 'Tis a harsh world in which affection knows No place to treasure up its loved and lost But the lone grave ! Thou, who so late was sleeping Warm in the close folds of a mother's heart. Scarce from her breast a single pulse receiving, But it was sent thee with some tender thought — How can I leave thee here ! Alas, for man ! The herb in its humility may fall, And waste into the bright and genial air, While we, by hands that ministered in life Nothing but love to us, are thrust away, 264 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. The earth thrown in upon our just cold bosoms, And the warm sunshine trodden out forever ! Yet have I chosen for thy grave, my child, A bank where I have lain in summer hours, And thought how little it would seem like death To sleep amid such loveliness. The brook Tripping with laughter down the rocky steps That lead us to thy bed, would still trip on, Breaking the dread hush of the mourners gone ; The birds are never silent that build here, Trying to sing down the more vocal waters ; The slope is beautiful with moss and flowers ; And, far below, seen under arching leaves, Glitters the warm sun on the village spire, Pointing the living after thee. And this Seems like a comfort, and, replacing now The flowers that have made room for thee, I go To whisper the same peace to her who lies Robbed of her child, and lonely. 'Tis the work Of many a dark hour, and of many a prayer, To bring the heart back from an infant gone ! Hope must give o'er, an'd busy fancy blot Its images from all the silent rooms, And every sight and sound familiar to her Undo its sweetest link ; and so, at last, The fountain that, once loosed, must flow forever, Will hide and waste in silence. When the smile Steals to her pallid lip again, and spring Wakens its buds above thee, we will come. And, standing by thy music-haunted grave. Look on each other cheerfully, and say, A child that we have loved is gone to heaven^ And by this gate offiowers she passed away ! TO A DYING CHILD. Sweet child, that wasted form, That pale and mournful brow, O'er which thy long, dark tresses In shadowy beauty flow — That eye, whence soul is darting With such strange brilliancy, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 265 Tell us thou art departing — This world is not for thee. No ! not for thee is woven That wreath of joy and woe, That crown of thorns and flowers, Which all must wear below ! We bend in anguish o'er thee, Yet feel that thou art blessed. Loved one, so early summoned To enter into rest. Soon shall thy bright young spirit From earth's cold chains be free ; Soon shalt thou meet that Saviour, Who gave himself for thee. Soon shalt thou be rejoicing, Unsullied as thou art. In the blessed vision promised Unto the pure in heart. Yes, thou art going home, Our Father's face to see, In perfect bliss and glory ; But we, O, where are we ? While that celestial country Thick clouds and darkness hide, In a strang-e land of exile, Still, still must we abide. O Father of our spirits. We can but look to thee ; Though chastened, not forsaken, Shall we thy children be. We take the cup of sorrow. As did thy blessed Son — Teach us to say with Jesus, " Thy will, not ours, be done !" 23 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. A PSALM OF DEATH. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. Henry W. Longfellow. «« Dear, beauteouB Death ! the jewel of the just Shining no where but in the dark, What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust. Could we outlook that mark !" There is a Reaper whose name is Death, And with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath. And the flowers that grow between. " Shall I have nought that is fair," saith he : " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord hath need of the flowerets gay,'^ The Reaper said, and smiled : " Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child." ^' They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints upon their garments white These sacred blossoms wear." And the motl>er gave, in tears and pain, The flowers she most did love ; But she knew she would find them all again, In the fields of light above. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day : 'Twas an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 267 TO A DYING INFANT. Sleep, little baby ! sleep ! Not in thy cradle bed, Not on thy mother's breast Henceforth shall be thy rest, But with the quiet dead. Yes — with the quiet dead, Baby, thy rest shall be. Oh ! many a weary heart, Weary of life's dull part, Would fain lie down with thee. Flee, little tender nursling ! Flee to thy grassy nest ; There the first flowers shall blow, The first pure flakes of snow Shall fall upon thy breast. ON A FAIR INFANT. MILTON. O FAIREST flower, no sooner shown than blasted, Soft, silken primrose, fading timelessly, Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst outlasted Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry ; For he, being amorous on that lovely dye That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss. But killed, alas ! and then bewailed his fatal bliss. Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead. Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed. Hid from the world in a low delved tomb Could Heaven, for pity, thee so strictly doom 7— Oh, no ! for something in th}'- face did shine Above mortality, that showed thou wast divine. Ah ! wert thou of the golden-winged host. Who, having clad thyself in human weed. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, And after short abode fly back with speed, As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed j Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire, To scorn the sordid world, and unto heaven aspire. But, oh ! why didst thou not stay here below ? To bless us with thy heaven-loved innocence, To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence. Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence, To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart ? But thou canst best perform that office where thou art Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, Her false-imagined loss cease to lament. And wisely think to curb thy sorrows wild ; Think what a present thou to God has sent, And render him with patience what he lent ; This, if thou do, he will an offspring give, That, till the world's last end, shall make thy name to live. TO THE MEMORY OF MY CHILD. BY MRS. S. H. O. " These were redeemed from among men, being the first fruits unto God, and to the Lamb." — Rev. xiv. 4. Redeem'd from earth, my gentle child. Now thou art of that seraph band, The pure in heart, the undefiled. Who roam the bright immortal land. By crystal streams, through flowery meads. Still following where the Saviour leads. There doth the tender bud expand. We watch' d with many a sigh and tear, Too fragile for this wintry land, Too pure for earth's polluted sphere. Twelve moons mark'd thy gentle bloom, The thirteenth beam'd upon thy tomb. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 260 Sweet one ! when fondly on my breast I hush'd thee to thy soft repose, And watched the wing of slumber rest On violet eye — and cheek of rose — While g-azing on thy trusting eye, » How could I deem that thou would'st die ! That thou would'st die ! and from our bower Withdraw the sunshine thou hadst shed. While grief should bid her purple flower. Spring up where'er our footsteps tread ; And hopes, and dreams, once green and high Like autumn leaves should lowly lie. ' When on thy pale cold brow of snow I press'd the last fond kiss of love, Such love as only mothers know — ' A stream, whose fountain is above, I felt that life was drear, and wild, Bereft of thee, my gentle child ! When kneeling by the sacred tomb. That held the form so prized, so dear, A voice dispell'd my bosom's gloom And vvhisper'd soft, she is not here ; Not here, not here, beyond the skies, Her spirit lives in Paradise. What rapture thriil'd through every vein. As faith, with eagle-piercing eye, Beheld her in that seraph train, The infant army of the sky — By crystal streams, by flowery meads, Still following where the Saviour leads. And now, though years have onward sped, Through tears and smiles, through light and gloom. Still memory o'er the lovely dead. Bids flowers of fairest verdure bloom — And wakes her harp all sweet, and low, Whence soft, delicious numbers flow. 9q# 21^^, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS, Soft breathing tones, but not of wo, Though lonely is the mother's heart ; And time's swift flight is all too slow, For lov'd and cherish'd friends apart : Those gentle airs with hope are rife, And whisper of eternal life. FAITH AND SUBMISSION. Oh, Lord ! the message from thy throne has come : We hear thy voice, and give them back to thee. With tears we lay our children in the tomb ; In faith, their spirits at thy feet we see. There, at the Almighty Father's hand, Nearest the throne of living light, The choirs of infant seraphs stand. And dazzling shine where all are bright. THE MOURNING MOTHER. O ! WHO shall tell what fearful pangs That mother's heart are rending. As o'er her infant's little grave Her wasted form is bending ; From many an eye that weeps to-day Delight may beam to-morrow ; But she — her precious babe is not ! And what remains but sorrow ? Bereaved one ! I may not chide Thy tears and bitter sobbing, — Weep on ! 'twill cool that burning brow, And still that bosom's throbbing: Be not thine such grief as theirs To whom no hope is given, — Snatched from the world, its sins and snares, Thy infant rests in heaven. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 271 ON THE DEATH OP A YOUNG GIRL. WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH. She haih gone in the spring-time of life, Ere her sky had been dimmed by a cloud, While her heart with the rapture of love was yet rife, And the hopes of her youth were unbowed — From the lovely, who loved her too well ; From the heart that had grown to her own ; From the sorrow which late o'er her young spirit fell Like a dream of the night she hath flown ; And the earth hath received to its bosom its trust — Ashes to ashes, and dust unto dust. The spring, in its loveliness dressed, Will return with its music-winged hours. And, kissed by the breath of the sweet southwest, The buds shall burst out in flowers ; And the flowers her grave-sod above, Though the sleeper beneath recks it not, Shall thickly be strown by the hand of Love, To cover with beauty the spot — Meet emblems are they of the pure one and bright, Who faded and fell with so early a blight. Ay, the spring will retuin — but the blossom That bloomed in our presence the sweetest, By the spoiler is borne from the cherishing bosom, The loveliest of all and the fleetest ! The music of stream and of bird Shall come back when the winter is o'er ; But the voice that was dearest to us shall be heard In our desolate chambers no more ! The sunlight of May on the waters shall quiver — The light of her eye hath departed forever! As the bird to its sheltering nest. When the storm on the hills is abroad. So her siprit hath flown from this world of unrest To repose on the bosom of God ! Where the sorrows of earth never more May fling o'er its brightness a stain ; - . 272 solacp: for bereaved parents. Where in rapture and love it shall ever adore, With a g-ladness unmingled with pain ; And its thirst shall be slacked by the waters which spring, Like a river of light, from the throne of the King 1 There is weeping on earth for the lost ! There is bowing in grief to the ground ! But rejoicing and praise mid the sanctified host. For a spirit in paradise found ! Though brightness hath passed from the earth, Yet a star is newborn in the sky, And a soul hath gone home to the land of its birth, Where are pleasures and fulness of joy t And a new harp is strung, and a new song is given To the breezes that float o'er the gardens of heaven. TO BEREAVED PARENTS. Tender guides, m sorrow weeping O'er your first-born's smitten bloom ; Or fond memory's vigil keeping Where the fresh turf marks her tomb. Ye no more shall see her bearing Pangs that woke the dove-like moan, Still for your affliction caring, Though forgetful of her own. Ere the bitter cup she tasted. Which the hand of care doth bring — Ere the glittering pearls were wasted. From glad childhood's fairy string — Ere one chain of hope had rusted, — Ere one wreath of joy was dead — To the Saviour, whom she trusted, Strong in faith, her spirit fled. Gone — where no dark sin is cherished, Where no woes, nor fears invade, Gone — ere youth's first flower had perished, To a youth that ne'er can fade. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 273 DEATH OF AN INFANT. As the sweet flower that scents the morn, But withers in the rising day ; Thus lovely was this infant's dawn, Thus swiftly fled its life away. It died ere its expanding soul Had ever burnt with wrong desires, Had ever spurned at heaven's control, Or ever quench'd its sacred fires. It died to sin, it died to cares. But for a moment felt the rod : — O mourner ! such the Lord declares, Such are the children of our God ! ELEGY ON A BELOVED INFANT. Fare thee well, thou lovely stranger, Guardian angels take your charge ; Freed at once from pain and danger, Happy spirit set at large. Life's most bitter cup just tasting, Short thy passage to the tomb, O'er the barrier swiftly hasting To thine everlasting home. Death his victim still pursuing, Ever to his purpose true — •*» Soon her placid cheek bedewing, Robb'd it of its rosy hue. Sealed those eyes, so lately beaming Innocence and joy, so mild, Every look so full of meaning Seemed to endear the lovely child. In the silent tomb we leave her. Till the resurrection morn ; When her Saviour will receive her, And restore her lovely form. 2T4 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Then, dear Lord, we hope to meet her, In thy happy courts above ; There with heavenly joy to greet her, And resound redeeming Love ! "NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE." Friend after friend departs ; Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, Beyond the reign of death, There surely is some blessed clime, Where life is not a breath ; Nor life's affections transient fire. Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. There is a world above, Where parting is unknown ; A long eternity of love, Formed for the good alone ; And faith beholds the dying here. Translated to that glorious sphere. Thus star by star declines, 'Till all are passed away, As morning higher and higher shines. To pure and perfect day ; Nor sink those stars in empty night. But hide themselves in heaven's own light THE DYING INFANT TO ITS MOTHER. " Cease here longer to detain me. Fondest mother, drown'd in woe ; Now thy kind caresses pain me, Morn advances — let me go. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 275 See yon orient streak appearing, Harbinger of endless day ; Hark ! a voice ; the darkness cheering, Calls my new-born soul away. Lately launched a trembling stranger, On the world's wild boist'rous flood ; Pierc'd with sorrows, tossed with danger, Gladly I return to God. Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee ; Now my trembling heart find rest ; Kinder arms than thine receive me ; Softer pillow than thy breast. Weep not o'er these eyes that languish, Upward turning toward their home : Raptur'd they'll forget all anguish, While they wait to see thee come. There, my mother, pleasures centre. Weeping, parting, care or wo Ne'er our Father's house shall enter. Morn advances — let me go. As through this calm, peaceful dawning. Silent glides my parting breath, To an everlasting morning. Gently close my eyes in death. Blessings endless, richest blessings, Pour their streams upon thy heart ! Though no language yet possessing. Breathes my spirit ere we part. Yet, to leave thee sorrowing rends me, Though again his voice I hear ; Rise ! may every grace attend thee ; Rise ! and seek to meet me there." 276 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. A MOTHER'S GRIEF. To mark the sufferings of the babe, That cannot speak its woe ; To see the infant tears gush forth, Yet know not why they flow ; To meet the meek uplifted eye, That fain would ask relief, Yet can but tell of agony, — This is a mother's grief Through dreary days and darker nights, To trace the march of death ; To hear the faint and frequent sigh, The quick and shorten' d breath : To watch the last dread strife draw near, And pray that struggle brief; Though all is ended with its close — This is a mother's grief! To see, in one short hour, decay The hope of future years. To feel how vain a father's prayer. How vain a mother's tears ; To think the cold grave now must close O'er what was once the chief Of all the treasured joys of earth — This is a mother's grief! Yet when the first wild throb is past Of anguish and despair. To lift the eye of faith to heaven, And think, " My child is there /" This best can dry the gushing tears, This yield the heart relief; Until the christian's pious hope O'ercomes the mother's grief. SOLACE FOB BEREAVED PARENTS. 277 A CHILD'S DEATH Was never more sweetly mourned than in these lifies, by R. B. Sheridan : — In some rude spot where vulgar herbage grows, If chance a violet rear its purple head, The careful gardener moves it ere it blows, To thrive and flourish in a nobler bed ; Such was thy fate, dear child, Thy opening such ! Pre-eminence in early bloom was shown ; For earth, too good, perhaps ; And lov'd too much — Heaven saw, and early mark'd thee for its own. Oh Lord ! the message from thy throne has come : We hear thy voice and give them back to thee ! With tears, we lay our children in the tomb, In faith, their spirits at thy feet we see. There, at the Almighty Father's hand, Nearest the throne of living light. The choirs of infant Seraphs stand, And dazzling shine where all are bright. ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT DAUGHTER. Sweet babe, she glanc'd into our world to see A sample of our misery ; Then turned away her languid eye, To drop a tear or two, and die. Sweet babe, she tasted of life's bitter cup, Refus'd to drink the poison up ! But turn'd her little head aside, Disgusted with the taste, and died. Sweet babe, she listened for a while to hear Our mortal griefs, then turned her ear To angels' harps and songs, and cried — To join their notes celestial, sighed and died. 24 278 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Sweet babe no more, but seraph now Before the throne, behold her bow ; To heavenly joys her spirit flies, Blest in the triumph of the skies ; Adores the grace that brought her there Without a wish — without a care ; That wash'd her soul in Calv'ry's stream, That shorten'd life's distressing dream. Short pain — short grief — dear babe, was thine, Now joys eternal and divine. Yes, thou art fled, and saints a welcome sing, Thine infant spirit soars on angels' wing ; Our dark aflection would have hop'd thy stay, The voice of God has call'd His child away. Like Samuel, early in the temple found, Sweet Rose of Sharon, plant of holy ground ; Oh ! more than Samuel blest, to thee 'tis given. The God he serv'd on earth, to serve in Heaven. "'TWAS BUT A BABE." I ASKED them why the verdant turf was riven From its young rooting, and with silent lip, They pointed to a new-made chasm among The marble-pillared mansions of the dead. Who goeth to his rest in yon damp couch ? The tearless crowd past on — " 'twas but a babe." A Babe f And poise ye in the rigid scales Of calculation, the fond bosom's wealth ? Rating its priceless idols as ye weigh Such merchandize as moth and rust corrupt, Or the rude robber steals? Ye mete out grief, Perchance, when youth, maturity or age, Sink in the thronging tomb ; but when the breath Grows icy on the lip of innocence, Repress your measured sympathies, and say, '''Twasbutahaber What know ye oT her love, Who patient watcheth, till the stars grow dim. Over her drooping infant, with an eye Bright as unchanging Hope, if his repose ? SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 279 What know ye of her woe, who sought no joy- More exquisite, than on his placid brow To trace the glow of health, and drink at dawn The thrilling lustre of his waking smile ? Go ask that musing father, why yon grave So narrow, and so noteless, might not close Without a tear 1 And though his lip be mute, Feeling the poverty of speech, to give Fit answer to thee, still his pallid brow. And the deep agonizing prayer that loads Midnight's dark wing to Am, the God of strength. Might satisfy thy question. Ye who mourn Whene'er yon vacant cradle, or the robes That decked the lost one's form, call back a tide Of alienated joy, can ye not trust Your treasure to his arms, whose changeless care Fasseth a mother's love ? Can ye not hope, When a few hastening years their course have run, To go to him, though he no more on earth Returns to you ? And when glad faith doth catch Some echo of celestial harmonies, Archangels' praises, with the high response Of cherubim, and seraphim, oh think — Think that your babe is there. TO MY DECEASED INFANT. Thou art gone to rest in a lonely bed, Sweet form of my precious child ! In the silent grave rests thy little head, And hushed is thy voice so mild. In a dreamless sleep are thine eyelids closed, And pale that sunny brow. And thy dimpled hands on thy bosom fair. Lie folded and quiet now. On my cheek no more shall thy velvet lip Its fond kiss of love impress. And thy cherished form at this heart no more Shall be pressed with tenderness. 280 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS Yet, O child belov'd, while my loss I mourn, Not a tear is shed for thee ; For thy soul, uncaged, has fled to its home, In a world of purity. And at Jesus' feet thou dost worship now, With a lovely infant throng, And soft music swells from thy little harp, And sweet is thy lisping song. It is joy to think that thy rest is found Where the skies are always bright ; And this heart, tho' sad, would not call thee back To a land of cheerless night. But at heaven's gate, may thy spirit pure Be the first to welcome me. When the toils of life, and its griefs are o'er, To a blest eternity. And together then, in sweet hymns of joy, The Redeemer's name we'll praise; And thy voice, new tuned, shall teach me the song Thou didst first in glory raise. THE MOTHER'S SOLILOaUY, ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT SON, By the Rev. J. Lawson. Hushed be the murmuring thought ! Thy will be' done, Arbiter of life and death, I bow To thy command. I yield the precious gift So late bestowed, and to the silent grave Move sorrowing, yet submissive. O sweet babe ! 1 lay thee down to rest. The cold, cold earth, A pillow for thy little head. Sleep on Serene in death ! No care shall trouble thee : All undisturbed thou slumberest, far more still Than when I lulled thee in my lap, and soothed Thy little sorrows till they ceased. Then feh thy mother peace ; her heart was light SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 281 As the sweet sigh that 'scaped thy placid lips, And joyous as the dimpled smile that played Across thy countenance. O, I must weep To think of thee, dear infant, on my knees Untroubled sleeping. Bending o'er thy form, I watched with eager hope to catch the laugh. First waking from thy sparkling eye, a beam Lovely to me, as the blue light of heaven ; Dimmed in the agony of death, it beams no more ! O, yet once more I kiss thy marble lips. Sweet babe ! and press with mine thy whitened cheeks ; Farewell, a long farewell ! Yet visit me In dreams, my darling ! Though the visioned joy Wake bitter pangs ; still be those in my thoughts, And I will cherish the dear dream, and think I still possess thee. Peace, my bursting heart ! O, I submit. Again 1 lay thee down. Dear relic of a mother's hope. Thy spirit, Now mingled with cherubic hosts, adores The grace that ransomed it, and lodged thee safe Above the stormy scene. ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. With what unknown delight the mother smiled. When this frail treasure in her arms she pressed ! Her prayer was heard — she clasped a living child : But how the gift transcends the poor request ! A child was all she asked, with many a vow ! Mother — behold the child an angel now ! Now in her father's house she finds a place, Or, if to earth she takes a transient flight, 'Tis to fulfil the purpose of his grace : To guide thy footsteps to the world of light ; — A ministering spirit sent to thee, That where she is, there thou may'st also be. 24* 282 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. ON SEEING AN INFANT AFTER DEATH. I SAW a babe in death. More beautiful she seemed, Than when the living breath From every feature beamed ; She looked a spirit of the sky, Whispering, O, 'tis sweet to die ! Her little hands so still ; The alabaster cheek : Eyes closed, which late would fill With words she could not speak ; All told the spirit stirring change, How sweet, how soft, but O, how strange ! Ye friends, why should you weep ? Would I were where she is ; There is no earthly sleep So calm, so deep as this ; It is the bridal night, that binds Her spirit to the angel minds. THE SPIRIT'S SONG OF CONSOLATION. Dear parents, grieve no more for me ; My parents, grieve no more ; Believe that I am happier far Than e'er I was before. I've left a world where woe and sin Swell onwards as a river. And gained a world where I shall rest In peace and joy for ever. Our Father bade me come to him, He gently bade me come, And he has made his heavenly house My dwelling-place and home. On that best day, of all the seven, Which saw our Saviour rise, I heard the voice you could not hear, Which called me to the skies. solace' for bereaved parents. 283 I saw, too, what you could not see, Two beauteous angels stand ; They smiling stood, and looked at me, And beckoned with their hand ; They said they were my sisters dear, And they were sent to bear My spirit to their blest abode, To live for ever there. Then think not of the mournful time When I resigned my breath, Nor of the place where I was laid, The gloomy house of death ; But think of that high world, where I No more shall suffer pain. And of the time when all of us In heaven shall meet again. THE LOST DARLING. She was my idol. Night and day to scan The fine expansion of her form, and mark The unfolding mind, like vernal rose-bud start To sudden beauty, was my chief delight. To find her fairy footsteps follow me, Her hands upon my garments, or her lip Long sealed to mine, and in the watch of night The quiet breath of innocence to feel Soft on my cheek, was such a full content Of happiness, as none but mothers know. Her voice was like some tiny harp, that yields To the light fingered breeze ; and as it held Brief converse with her doll, or playful soothed The moaning kitten, or with patient care Conned o'er the alphabet — but most of all, Its tender cadence in her evening prayer Thrilled on the ear like some ethereal tone Heard in sweet dreams. But now alonff I sit, Musing of her, and dew with mournful tears Her little robes, that once with woman's pride I wrought, as if there were a need to deck 284 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. What God hath made so beautiful. I start, Half fancying from her empty crib there comes A restless sound, and breathe the accustomed words, " Hush ! Hush thee, dearest." Then I bend and weep — As though it were a sin to speak to one Whose home is with the angels. Gone to God ! And yet I wish I had not seen the pang That wrung her features, nor the ghostly white Settling around her lips, I would that Heaven Had taken its own, like some transplanted flower, Blooming in all its freshness. Gone to God ! Be still, my heart ! what could a mother's prayer^ In all the wildest ecstacy of hope. Ask for its darling like the bliss of heaven ? DEATH OF AN INFANT. Death found strange beauty on that polished broWj And dashed it out. — There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip. — He touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. — Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wishful tenderness, a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence Alone may wear. With ruthless haste he bound The silken fringes of those curtaining lids Forever. — There had been a murmuring sound, With which the babe would claim its mother's ear, Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set His seal of silence. — But there beamed a smile So fixed, so holy, from that cherub brow, Death gazed — and left it there. He dared not steal The signet-ring of heaven. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 285 THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. Those once loved voices all are still, In happier years so cheerful ; At rest is now the ecstatic thrill, The once fair form — how fearful ! All, all are laid within the grave ; Nor tears nor prayers e'en one could save ' '<■ Is there no hope ?" the parent cries ; " From death no glad revival ? The cherished dust, no dust that lies. What world waits its arrival?" — " That world, where Christ is gone before. Is theirs and thine for evermore." Oh blissful scene ! where severed hearts Renew the ties most cherished ; Where nought the mourned and mourner parts ; Where grief with life is perished. Oh ! nought do I desire so well. As here to die, and there to dwell ! DIRGE OP A CHILD. BY MRS. HEMANS. No bitter tears for thee be shed. Blossom of being ! seen and gone ! With flowers alone we strew thy bed, O blest departed one ! Whose all of life, a rosy ray, Blush'd into dawn, and pass'd away. Yes ! thou art fled, ere guilt had power To stain thy cherub soul and form. Closed is the soft ephemeral flower. That never felt a storm ! The sun-beam's smile, the zephyr's breath. All that it knew from birth to death. 286 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Thou wert so like a form of light, That Heaven benignly call'd thee hence Ere yet the world could breathe one blight O'er thy sweet innocence : And thou, that brighter home to bless, Art pass'd with all thy loveliness ! Oh, hadst thou still on earth remain'd. Vision of beauty ! fair, as brief ! How soon thy brightness had been stain'd With passion or with grief ! Now not a sullying breath can rise To dim thy glory in the skies. We rear no marble o'er thy tomb. No sculptured image there shall mourn * Ah ! fitter far the vernal bloom Such dwelling to adorn. Fragrance, and flowers, and dews, must be The only emblems meet for thee. Thy grave shall be a blessed shrine, Adorn'd with nature's brightest wTeath, Each glowing season shall combine Its incense there to breathe ; And oft upon the midnight air. Shall viewless harps be murmuring there. And oh ! sometimes in visions blest, Sweet spirit ! visit our repose, And bear from thine own world of rest, Some balm for human woes ! What form more lovely could be given Than thine, as messenger of Heaven ? ON THE DEATH OP A CHILD. Life is a span, a fleeting hour ; How soon the vapour flies ! Man is a tender, transient flower, That e'en in bloomina- dies. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 287 Death spreads his with'ring wintry arms, And beauty smiles no more : Ah ! where are now those rising charms Which pleas'd our eyes before ? Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, When what we now deplore Shall rise in full immortal prime. And bloom to fade no more. Cease then, fond nature, cease thy tears ; Thy Saviour dwells on high : There everlasting spring appears, There joys shall never die. THE DYING SON. Nay, mother, fix not thus on me That streaming eye, And clasp not thus my freezing hand ; For I must die. Deeply I've drunk the wormwood draught, The grief, the pain ; Oh ! ask me not one bitter drop To taste again. My father, on my weary head, O lay thine hand ; And bless me while I yet can hear Thy accents bland : And smile, as thou wert wont to do In happy days, When I looked to thy loving eye, And sought its praise. Loved parents, when my infant couch Ye knelt beside, And asked the gracious Lord to bless Your hope, your pride : 288 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. To Him ye gave the opening bud, The early bloom ; Then grieve not that the ripened fruit He gathers home. THE INFANT'S HOME. OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF TWIN CHILDREN. Where are ye now, sweet pair ? Vacant is now your place of cradled rest ; Ye slumber not upon a mother's breast, Where is your home — oh ! where ? How beautiful ye were. With your meek, peaceful brows and laughing eyes, All eloquent of life's first energies. And joy's bright fount, yet clear. How blithely ye awoke With each new day ; familiar forms were there To meet your eager glance — kind voices near, In gentle accents spoke. Ye seemed then to be. As some pale flower, that to the morning's light Rears its frail stem, and spreads its petals bright As if confidingly. And when, at evening's close. Those little hands, relaxing from the grasp. That some dear object held, with loving clasp, Ye sunk into repose. Love made your slumber seem As the closed flowers, o'er which the silent star Keepeth its ceaseless vigil from afar, And sheds its unfelt beam. I looked upon you then With thoughts almost of sorrow in my gaze, As on a passing joy, which other days Would make not mine afrain. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 289 I feared some change might sweep Through the untroubled breast, and leave its stain j^ Some unsuspected ill, some bitter pain, Mar with sad dreams your sleep. I know that change has past O'er you, sweet, tender nurslings ! but I know Your spirits now will never taste of woe, — That change will be the last. Ye are before me now, As ye were wont to be — no beauty gone. That in those eyes, even when tearful, shone, No charm from those pure brows. Too calm, too deeply still. Is that unchanging picture ; yet a part Of the sweet visions of the past, Can make its own at will. And thus ye are mine own, — Mine own, to dwell upon with quiet lo^e ; Thoughts the world cannot touch, nor time remove — From me ye are not gone. I ask not, where are laid Those faded forms — whether below the sod Which busy feet have with indifference trod, Or 'neath some Aimdly shade. Where, or> earth's tranquil breast. The peacf^ of the Eternal One hath smiled, E'en as- a mother o'er her cradled child, Tiiere is your place of rest. He, who mankind shall wake, Over his children's rest a watch doth keep. And with a voice that breathes of love, the sleep Of innocence will break. Not in that simple tomb, But in " our Father's house," where love shall be Abiding, even in its own sanctuary. There is the infant's home. 25 290 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT Sure to the mansions of the blest, Where infant innocence ascends, Some angel brighter than the rest, The spotless spirit's flight attends. There at th' Almighty Father's hand, Nearest the throne of living light, The choirs of infant seraphs stand. And dazzling shine where all are bright. When thus the Lord of mortal breath Decrees his bounty to resume. And points the silent shaft of death, Which speeds our infants to the tomb. Oh ! think the darlings of thy love, Divested of this earthly clod. Amid un number 'd saints above Bask in the bosom of their God l-tTE GRAVE. There is no monument to Kxark the spot ; Two feet of grass are all th&t o'er it wave ; The stranger passes, but he heeds it not ; It is an infant's grave. But there are two who know the spot full well. And visit it, full oft, at evening tide ; For when the child entombed within it fell, Fell all their earthly pride. The mother as she decks it round with flowers, Waters with tears the little new-grown sod ; The father bends his knee, and sadly pours His vexed soul to God. Grieve not, ye sad ones ! does the spirit sleep ? 'Tis with the Lord, who took but what he gave Angelic spirits nightly vigils keep O'er your infant's grave. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 291 I WILL not weep, my boy, for thee, Though thou wer't all the world to me ! I would not wish thee wak'd again, To strive like me with want and pain. I will but close that still bright eye, And kiss that brow so pale and high. And those pure lips, whose tones divine, Caught their first words, first pray'rs from mine And fold thee to this bosom lone. Which thou has left as cold's thine own, — And thus implore the God who takes, — To help the heart thine absence breaks ! My boy — my boy — this darken'd earth Shall never more to me seem fair; And I shall stand, 'mid all its mirth, Like something which should not be there ! Yet, 'twas to heav'n thy soul was borne, And wherefore should thy parent mourn ? Perhaps in mercy. He reprov'd The selfish zeal with which I lov'd. I'll mourn no more ! my God, thou knowest The wealth my desolated heart has lost ! Oh ! shield me from repining cares, When other parents point to theirs ; Bring back that light I now behold, — Oh, those lov'd features, calm and cold, — That deathless smile, which whispers me, He died in peace and joy with Thee ! My boy — my boy — sustaining Pow'r, Thy sinking mother well may crave, — For welcome shall be that blest hour. Which sees her share thy lonely grave ! RESIGNATION ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. Now, O Lord, to thee submitting, We the tender pledge resign ; And thy mercies ne'er forgetting, Own that all we have is thine. 292 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Rest, sweet babe, in gentle slumbers, Till the resurrection morn ; Then arise to join the numbers, Who its triumphs shall adorn. Though thy presence was endearing, Though thy absence we deplore, At the Saviour's bright appearing, We shall meet to part no more. DEATH OP A CHILD. Alas ! how chang'd that lovely flower. Which bloom'd and cheer' d my heart ! Fair smiling comfort of an hour, How soon we're call'd to part ! And shall my bleeding heart arraign That God whose ways are love ? Or vainly cherish anxious pain For one that rests above ? No ! let me rather humbly pay Obedience to thy will ; And with my inmost spirit say, The Lord is righteous still. The darkest nights and loudest storms Of earth will soon be o'er ; Then upward with th' angelic forms, We'll rise to meet no more. STANZAS. " Ostendent terris banc tantum fata, nee ultra Esse sinent." Haste to depart. The breeze of earth Is all too rude for thee ; For thou wast destin'd from thy birth For realms more fair and free. Our warmest beams too coldly glow, Thy beauties to expand ; Thy spirit lingers here below, As in a foreign land. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 293 Haste to depart. The wandering dove, Benighted as it flies, Pants not to gain its bower of love, As thou to reach the skies. The hours of spring-tide come, but bring No spring-time to thy heart ; Among the leaves sweet voices sing, Thou heed'st them not. Depart ! And yet to us thou art as dear As earthly thing can be ; And we are fain to keep thee here, And share our hearts with thee ; The thought, how brief thy sojourning In this low vale must prove, But makes us closer round thee cling, And wakes to deeper love ! Haste to depart. We would not dare To stay thy wing from heaven ; And all thy love, and all thy care, To God alone be given. Though darkness veil our future hours, Nor thou be near to shine, The bitter loss can be but ours, The gain immortal, thine. Thy mossy grave our tears shall wet, When thou art lowly laid, But thy freed spirit shall forget All of this earth's dim shade ; When crown'd and robb'd in spotless white, Washed in the fount above ; The Fount of blessedness and light, A great Redeemer's love ! 25* ii$t SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS/ THE SPIRIT VOICE A LITTLE child said to her father a few days before her death, — " God calls me." She was then well, but the next Sabbath she died. God called her hence — the breath of prayer Had gone unto his throne ; And mighty like an incense there. The voice of praise had flown. God called her hence — that solemn tone Upon her slumber broke, As if an angel's golden harp. On earth its music woke. Whence did it come — ^that spirit voice. Unheard by all but her? Like that which breathed from human lips. The brooding air doth stir 1 Is it a dream too wild and vain, That in our world of clay, Though hid from mortal sense and ken, A spirit realm may lay — That tones are breathing all around. Too subtle for our air, . And music woke, whose blissful thrill Our sense could never bear — That on the very air we breathe. Bright forms are floating by. With but a filmy veil to hide Their glory from the eye ? This may not be — but O, there is A being ever near, To whom thy bosom's secret thoughts, Arrayed in light appear. And though the realm of life or death, Enrobed in mystery be. The Sun of Righteousness at last, Shall make it light to thee. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 295 AN AFFECTING SCENE. m The following lines describe the suffering and death of a young wife and her children, from the intempe- rance of the husband and father. The wife was taken suddenly ill in a very cold night, and left alone with her little ones, while her husband went to procure a physician and other needful assistance; the nearest house being over two miles distant : but he went into a tavern, became intoxicated, remained so for some time, and, on his return home, found them all dead. It is supposed the mother died soon after the birth of her child — that the boy struggled longest — that in trying to soothe his expiring sister, he sank down beside her, and could not at last re- lease himself from her arms. With what feelings can Christians pursue a business which has a natu- ral tendency to produce such results? The words are by Mr. Larned, O ! Mother dear, my hps are dry, And Bessy's hands are cold ; Mother, dear mother ! help me nigh Your bosom — surely you can hold Your little boy. I will not cry, Nor ask again for drink or bread, If you will only let me lie Upon your breast, and hold my head. O Mother ! call your little boy To your bedside — he'll try to crawl: You said I was your only joy, Your darling Henry, and your all ; And then you looked and screamed out so^ Boy ! to your cruel father go. Why do you weep and wail to me ? Fly ! fly ! I've nothing here for thee I 296 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Don't stare on me, my mother dear, I'm still — though Bessy will not stir • And she's too cold to lie so near — O, why donl^father come to her ? i' ^'.■' Poor Bessy cried herself to sleep ; I wish I could — but when I try, My lips won't shut — and always keep Wide open on your staring eye ! Mother ! how can you lie so still, With that dead baby in your arms ? Who did that little dear one kill? You said 'twas now safe from all harms. Can't I be dead too, mother, say? L>-L..: I'ni sure 'tis very lonesome here ; Is Heaven a very great long way ? And is our father waiting there? I'm tired now, and cannot go ; And the bright sun does blind me so ; Oh ! shut your eyes, dear mother, do ; • And let me love to gaze on you. How can you see us lying thus, On this iced floor — our feet so cold ? Once you would fondly run to us, And round us both the blankets fold. I'm falling — oh ! the room turns round ? I cannot see you now, — but hark ! I hear a soft and pleasant sound — Perhaps it is the little lark. I love such sounds as these to hear — And it is dark no longer now ; Dear little girls with wings are near, And they are smiling on me too. Oh ! 'tis their songs so sweet and clear — I think I hear them softly say, Dear children, stay no longer here — Come, come with us, we'll lead the way. It must be heaven where they dwell — I come ! I come. Mother ! Farewell. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 297 DEATH. BY MISS PARDOE. This is a world of care, And many thorns upon its pathway lie ; Weep not, then, mothers, for your fond and fair, Let the young die ! Joys are lik^ summer flowers, And soon the blossoms of their beauty fall, Clouds bloom o'er both ; brief are both the hours, Death ends them all ! This is a world of strife. Of feverish struggles, and satiety. And blighted enterprise — what then is life ? Let the strong die ! All human love is vain, And human might is but an empty sound ; Power of mind and body bringeth pain — Death is its bound I This is a world of woe, Of heaviness, and anxiety : Why cling we then to evils that we know ? Let the old die ! Wrestling with fell disease, Vain lamentations o'er departed years ^ Is not age rife with these 1 Death dries all tears ! This is a world of pain : There is a better land beyond the sky j A humble spirit may that portion gain — Let the just die ! But let those shrink with dread. Whose days have been of evil, lest they find, When all their earthly hopes are withered, Despair behind 1 298 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PAR1ENTS. Let them implore for aid, A fitter record of their years to give ; And lean on Him who mercifully bade The sinner live ! THE FATHER OVER HIS DEAD CHILD. BY CATHARINE PONSONBY. We little thought, my darling boy, When to my heart I pressed thee. And blending with my sighs, '• farewell," With ardent love caressed thee, 'Twould be our last adieu on earth, Thy latest breathing kiss ! We meet again ! — but ah, my child ! A bitter meeting this. Thy bright blue eye is closed in death, Thy merry laugh is o'er ! Thy thousand winning ways, alas ! Shall charm this heart no more. Ah ! could'st thou not have lingered, love, To cheer me yet awhile, Life's scenes to bless and brighten still. With thy sweet, radiant smile ? Had I but seen thee once again, And watched thy dying bed. Caught the last flick'ring of thy breath, Pillowed thy drooping head ; My heart, methinks, would not have felt This bitterness of grief; Though sad the past, to love it gives A sacred, sweet relief But shall I mourn thy loss, my child, Without one solaced feeling, Or beam of light within the cloud, ;:;High, heavenly hopes revealing? Forgive, my God, the bitter grief, Which murmured thy behest, SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 299 Thy love divine which made my child An Angel bright and blest. Teach me to say, " Thy will be done !" 'Tis kindest, wisest, best — The cloud-robed tempest 'mid its ire, Bears blessings in its breast. Though darkness deep invests his path, Yet glories gem his crown, And merry beams through^all the clouds That o'er his footsteps frown. My stricken heart to Jesus yields Love's deep devotion now. Adores and blesses — while it bleeds — His hand that strikes the blow. Then fare thee well — a little while- Life's troubled dream is past ; And I shall meet with thee, my child, In life — in bliss, at last ! MARY'S RECIUEST. BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNBY, There was a shaded chamber, A silent, watching band, On a low couch a suffering child Who grasped the mother's hand. She told her faith in Jesus—- Her simple prayer was said. And now that darkened vale she trod. Which leadeth to the dead. Red fever scorched her bosoms- Frost chilled the vital flame, And her sweet brow was troubled, As anguish smote her frame. Yet 'mid the grasp and struggle, With shuddering lips she cried, <3Q0 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. " O mother, — dearest mother, Bury me by your side." " But where will you be buried ? My darling Mary — where ? In the green, shady dell you loved. With earliest violets fair ? Or in the ancient church-yard, Where we were wont to stray, 'Mid the white marble monuments. My little Mary— say ?" But the thought of flowers had faded — The green dell charmed no more. Dim grew those marble monuments, With all their lettered lore. And one lone image lingered, — Bright 'mid the wreck of earth, — That love, with which her soul was knit, Even from the hour of birth. One only wish she uttered. While life was ebbing fast, — " Sleep by my side, dear mother, And rise with me at last." 'Tis o'er,— the spirit parted. With that long, tender moan, — Check not thy grief, fond mother, — Thou daughterless and lone : Weep freely, — Christ hath hallowed The tear that nature wrings, — And see, — how peaceful rests the clay, That pain no longer stings. Look ! look ! — the thin lip quivers, The blue eyes open wide, And what a hollow whisper steals, — ^ Buryme bp your side " '^ ' SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 301 And did the spirit falter Upon its upward track, To strew this never-dying flower In tender token back? — Even at the gates of Heaven, Whence songs of angels flow, Remembered it the cradle hymn That soothed its infant wo. THE DYING CHILD. " Sweet mother, I seem gentle music to hear." " 'Tis but fancy, my child ; turn to slumber again." " Nay, surely 'tis music ; hark, mother ! 'tis near ; It floats round my couch with its gladdening strain." " 'Tis but fancy, my child ; let me moisten thy lips; These breezes will temper thy feverish brow ; Some bee buzzes by as its nectar it sips ; 'Tis nothing, my child, thou wilt rest better now." " Then 'tis nothing, dear mother, and yet sure 'tis sweet j It comforts my soul, for it whispers of bliss : Were I dying, and angels my spirit would greet. They could not bring welcomer music than this. " And do you not hear it ! and do you not see Yon seraph that beckons me hence to the sky ? Perhaps, dearest mother, 'tis sent but to me ; May I go if it calls? may I yield it reply?" Gentle babe, I come for thee : I did come to bear thee home. Far from mortal agony ; Come, then, gentle infant, come. Cool shall be that fervid cheek, Every tear be wiped away ; Ere the orient morning break, Thou shalt be in endless day. 2fi 302 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Yes, meek babe, 'twas I that sang ; Heavenly anthems thou didst hear ; Strains to soothe thy dying pang, Hymns thy parting soul to cheer. Tell her on whose tender breast Soft reclines thy fainting head, Thou shalt shortly be at rest — Say not, numbered with the dead. No ; while o'er thy mouldering dust Falls the tear of earthly love, Thou shalt live amidst the just, Brighter life in heaven above. Bid her, then, sweet babe, rejoice That to her the boon is given, To resign, at Jesus' voice. One more cherub saint to keaven. MY BROTHER. Is this my little brother ? How cold he is, and still ; Do take him up, dear mother ! Is he not very ill ? No, no ! my child, the dear one Will suffer no more pain, 'Tis death makes him so silent : He will not move again. Not hold his little arms out? Nor make his pleasant noise I Nor open wide his tiny hand,' To take the pretty toys. *Twas little brother's spirit Which made him laugh and play; That which you loved you see not, There's nothing here but clay. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 303 Why do you weep, then, mother ? You said, the other day, To die was only going home ; Did brother want to stay ? Will God love to see him, And show him pretty things? And if he cries to come to you, Won't he give him little wings? He has not gone away, child ; If we love him with our hearts, His spirit will stay with us, When this little form departs If you are good and gentle, He will always be with you ; And I will try to grieve no more, If you are kind and true. We'll kiss once more those lips, Then we will go away ; And God will give us happy thoughts, If we ask him when we pray. Mary. BURIAL IN THE COUNTRY. BY MISS A. M. F. BUCHANAN. The sunlight through the window's vines Came in upon the dead — A fair young child — and touched with gold The ringlets of its head. A smile so bright was round its lips And on its dimpled cheek. So life-like through the lashes long Shone out an azure streak. That in a childish playfulness Its eyes were closed, it seemed, To peep upon the glorious thing Whence the effulgence streamed. 304 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. It lay where it had sunk to rest, Upon a snow-white bed. On which the bright and balmy air Its coolness oft had shed ; And, full in sight, all pictured o'er With chequered greens of June, Majestic hills arose, and streams Sang their sweet, changeless tune ; And bees, from out the garden hive, And birds were winging by ; — With its calm cheerfulness, it was A lovely place to die. No studied words of sympathy Were coldly whispered round ; The silence of the humble throng Told more than measured sound. A step anon the couch would seek, A tear the shroud would wet, And mothers clasped their babes with thanks That God had spared them yet ; And children touched the cold, white brow, And then in awe stood by, Their new-learnt lesson thinking o'er Of angels in the sky. An aged man with meek, low voice, And simple words and few. Arose, and from the Book of God Inspiring comfort drew ; He said that types to teach our doom Were still our eyes before ; He pointed to the morning flower O'ershado wing the door; And said its bloom, so bright, and brief, A child's existence shared ; — Then who could look on it, nor be For early death prepared. And sobs gushed forth, as from the home, Whence had for ever gone The echoes of a loved, young voice, i :>T The solemn train passed on. ^ ^ i' K-n.', vAr' SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 305 Hailed by that holy comforter, The freshj soft morning air, They wound along the woodland path Where birds and blossoms were. The fragrance and the melody So breathed of love and peace. That soon the hearts most anguished, felt Their throbs impatient cease. And then within the church-yard gate The lowly bier they stood. Thick strown with sweet acacia flowers, That fell while in the wood ; And hands that oft had fondled it. While flowed its winning mirth, Let gently down the coflined form Into the silent earth ; So carefully the sod they laid, That ere they ceased, had come The bees to the un withered thyme And filled it with their hum. 'T would be a chilling thought to one Whose love is Nature's bloom, Whose oracles are every leaf, That in a dark, cold room He must be laid to die, where ne'er The stir of forest trees, Or murmurs of unfettered streams Sent their deep homilies ; That when the Almighty's summoner His heart were stilled to hear. The ribald shouts of reckless crowds Should rise upon his ear. 'Twould be a chilling thought, that when He sinks to silent clay, The ones he loved must chain their sighs Along the crowded way ; And, though with anthems thrilling sad, And sombre pall and plumes. And .knells to strike into the soul They bore him midst the tombs ; 306 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. That careless tongues their tears should count And strangers cold and rude, Cast down the turf, and sneering bid The worm to take his food. Oh ! that this hour of doom might come Far from the city's din, Where things of beauty, ever round His heart's sweet guides had been ! Where Friendship, at its last sad rite, Unchecked might rest and weep, And Memory, o'er his ashes, oft, Unseen, a vigil keep ; Where solitude and silence might E'en worldlings unenslave. To pause, and rev^erently glean A moral from his grave ! DYING THOUGHTS OF A YOUNG CHILD. Mother — the light of day is parting, From my weary eye, And my spirit is departing To the blessed sky. One unfading hope before me Whispers it is well : Brighter visions hover o'er me Than the lip can tell. On my young imagination Bursts a purer light, Than the beauty of creation Sheds upon my sight — Is it but a lonely vision, Fading in its birth, — Or the spirit's sweet transition From the bonds of earth? Will my hand, unwearied, gather Brighter flowers than we Culled — when once we roamed together: • Mother — shall I see SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 307' Birds, like those whose song I listened In the quiet wood ; Insects, bright as those that glistened In the sunlight's flood ? Do not all men love each other In a world like this? The world's coldness ! tell me, mother, What that coldness is : I have found its scenes enchanting, And its love sincere, Yet my w^eary soul is panting For a purer sphere — For my Saviour's words steal o'er me, Holy, kind and sweet — Little children, come before me, And your shepherd meet. Mother, will not Jesus give me More than earthly love — Will his outstretched arms receive me To a home above ? Though on earth I have been dwelling But a summer's day, Hopes within my heart are swelling, As its powers decay. God to my young heart hath spoken Many a sunny word, And his love, by many a token, In my soul was stirred. Read once more that sweet narration, I so love to hear. How our Lord, for man's salvation. Left his heavenly sphere ; How his precious love hath freed us. How his word can save — And how safely he will lead us Through the silent grave. When my voice in this dear mansion Is no longer heard, 308 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. May thy soul, with pure expansion, Rest upon his word ; From its page a light is shining, And a holy spell, Which forbids the heart's repining: Mother — fare thee well. DEATH OF THE YOUNG. Sleep, little one ! the summer winds are breathing A gentle hymn, to lull thy quiet rest ; Around thy tomb, in mournful beauty wreathing The ivy creeps, in fresh' ning verdure dressed. Sleep on, my love ! the summer flowers are springing In holy peace above thy mouldering head, To guard thy dust, and from their bosoms flinging A mingled sweetness o'er thy silent bed. We miss thee, love ! thy joyous face once blushing With rosy light, death-shades have overcast; But ah ! how oft these heart-felt tears are gushing. To think our eyes on thee have looked their last. We miss those hours, when through our hearts was stealing The merry music of thy fairy feet ; We miss those hours, when every pulse of feeling Thrilled quick and warm thy trusting eyes to greet. We miss our babe, when evening gathers round us ; Thy place is vacant on thy mother s breast I We wake no more, to feel the spell that bound us, When once to ours, thy infant lips were pressed ! Where art thou now 7 the soul which once was pouring, Through this cold dust, a warm and thrilling glow, Lives somewhere yet ; it vanished, heaven-ward soaring, Far from all pain, or blight, or earthly woe 1 Where dost thou dwell? It must be thou art wearing A radiant light on thy enfranchised soul ; In some bright world thy part with angels bearing. Where hymns of holy joy forever roll. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 309 To that deep life, God's love hath surely borne thee, Dear cherished babe ! — nor seek we to reclaim ; How much we love, how much we miss and mourn thee, He knows alone — and blessed be his name ! THE MOTHER TO HER SICK CHILD. Sleep on, my boy, and o'er thy fevered brow May gentle angels keep their silent watch ; May he who is the Lord of angels bend His pitying eye, and give thee soothing sleep. Oh ! may he breathe around thy languid form Benignant health, if such his holy will ; Yet good that holy will, though sickness sore Should linger — even sickness unto death ! My child, my treasure, I have given thee up To him who gave thee me ! Ere yet thine eye Rested with conscious love upon thy mother, Long ere thy lips could gently sound her name. She gave thee up to God ; she sought for thee One boon alone, that thou might'st be his^hild ; His child sojourning on this distant land. His child above the blue and radiant sky. 'Tis all I ask for thee, belov'd one, still. Perchance, in some fond hour, this heart may wish High intellect to beam around thy brow, And all that earth counts joy to tend thy steps : Perchance I wish thy bright blue eye may cheer The remnant of my solitary path. That I may watch thy opening character Expanding like thy father's, bright and pure, The Christian, and the scholar ; yet, my boy. All these fond wishes of thy mother's heart Are merged in one — that thou may'st be His child, His own devoted child to spread his glory ; Whether in earth's dark places or on high. In labours such as holy angels knew. And he will hear the prayer, — He will accept The offering, He hath strengthened me to make. Even thus, of old, a babe was offered up — Young Samuel, for the service of his Temple ; ..;: Nor he refused the boon, but poured on him ■ '^ 310 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. The anointing of all gifts and graces meet For his high office. So may'st thou, my child, In thine own humble sphere, be consecrate. Sleep on, then, dearest ; safe from peril, — safe, Though sickness be thy lot. In life or death, Be but his arms around thee, thou art safe. Oh ! it is bliss to live, even on earth, Labouring for Him — gathering His elect in, From a dark sinful world, to His fear fold ! And it is bliss to die — to soar on wings Of seraph to His bright celestial throne ; — To bend, adoring, at the fount of light, — To dwell for ever in its blaze ! My child, This is the blessedness I ask for thee. A BENEDICTION FOR A BABY. BY JAMES MONTGOMERY. What blessing shall I ask for thee. In the sweet dawn of infancy ? — That, Mjiich our Saviour, at his birth, Brought down with Him from heaven to earth. What next, in childhood's April years Of sun-beam smiles and rain-bow tears? — That which in Him all eyes might trace, To grow in wisdom and in grace. What in the wayward path of youth. Where falsehood walks abroad as truth ? — By that good spirit to be led. Which John saw resting on his head. What, in temptation's wilderness. When wants assail, and fears oppress? — To wield like Him, the Scripture-sword, And vanquish Satan " by the word." What, in the labour, pain, and strife. Combats and cares of daily life ? — In his cross-bearing steps to tread. Who had not where to lay his head. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 311 What, in the agony of heart, When foes rush in and friends depart ? — To pray like Him, the Holy One, " Father, thy will, not mine, be done." What, in the bitterness of death, When the last sigh cuts the last breath ? — Like Him your spirit to commend, And up to paradise ascend. What, in the grave, and in that hour, When even the grave shall lose its power ? — Like Him, your rest awhile to take ; Then at the trumpet's sound awake. Him as He is in heaven to see, And as He is, yourself to be. THE FATHER TO HIS MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. Come gather closer to my side. My little smitten flock. And I will tell of him who brought Pure water from the rock : Who boldly led God's people forth From Egypt's wrath and guile, And once a cradled babe did float All helpless on the Nile. You're weary precious ones, your eyes Are wandering far and wide ; Think ye of her who knew so well Your tender thoughts to guide ? Who could to wisdom's sacred lore Your fixed attention claim ? Ah ! never from your hearts erase That blessed mother's name. 'Tis time to sing your evening hymn. My youngest infant dove ; Come, press thy velvet cheek to mine, r And learn the lay of love ; 312 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS ' My sheltering arms can clasp you all, My poor deserted throng ; Cling as you used to cling to her Who sings the angel's song. Begin, sweet birds, the accustomed strain, Come, warble loud and clear ; Alas, alas, you're weeping all. You're sobbing in my ear : Good-night : go, say the prayer she taught, Beside your little bed, The lips that used to bless you there, Are silent with the dead. A father's hand your course may guide Amid the storms of life, His care protect those shrinking plants That dread the storm of strife : But who, upon your infant hearts, Shall like that mother write? Who touch the strings that rule the soul ? Dear smitten flock, good night ! L. H. BAPTISM AT THE COFFIN'S HEAD. " Agreeably to her request, her little babe was bap tized at the head of the coffin of its mother." — Obitu- ary of Mrs. E. R. L. Dowse, {consort of Rev. Ed- mund Dowse of Sherburne, Mass.,) in N. E, Puritan^ of July 14, 1842. LiETH here beneath her shroud, Like a star beneath a cloud, • i '....^ She, of whom our love was proud. Common mourners are not here ; Sorrow, bending o'er this bier, Drops no inexpressive tear. Kind, consistent, earnest one ; Active, all her labour done ; Ripe for summons to the Son. SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. 313 Meek in her allotted place ; Panting for and finding grace ; Winner in the Christian race. Giving life, she yielded life ; Sharp the struggle, sore the strife, — Quick, yet keen, the severing knife. In the matron's modest bloom, Just a mother — to the tomb Sunk she by untimely doom. Just allowed earth's purest bliss, Just allowed her bud to kiss Ere she perished ; anguish this ! " Perished ?" — No ! — from this terrene Borne by angels she is seen ; God beholds the evergreen ! Stay awhile the funeral stave ! Stay, ere the insatiate grave Takes the lovely dust it gave. Stay ! — for so she bade us — till We perform her dying will; Ere the waiting grave ye fill ! Bring the precious, fatal gift ! Heart ! thy inner purpose sift, While the fervent prayer we lift. Meet it is in truthful prayer, Thus to God our grief and care To commit, and leave them there. Meet it is when mothers go, Thus the orphans to bestow On His heart who loves them so ! Bring it to the CofRn's Head ! Kneel, while solemn word is said In the presence of the Dead I 27 314 SOLACE FOR BEREAVED PARENTS. Though her little babe is nigh, From that bosom where 'twould lie, Comes not the maternal sigh. Beckon not the sheltering arms To protect it from alarms ; Speaketh not the voice that calms. Ah ! that stream of life is dried, Which those tiny lips supplied; Ah ! a mother's breast denied ! Peaceful doth that mother lie, Closed affection's ear and eye ; Heedless of her baby's cry, Water — of blest purity Emblem — do we pour on thee; Little one ! regenerate be — Only by the crimson flood Of the Spotless ; in the blood Of the very Son of God ! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! Take the feeble, take the lost, Purchased, once, at Calvary's cost. Onward ! — we have holy joy Breaking on our sad employ; Dea*h ! thou canst not these destroy. Wm. B. Tappan. ^^