She made no answer.
I said, "You know Jesus." A smile played about her mouth. We rejoiced, and wept for joy.
I then said, "If you know father, press my hand." She gave me no sign--that smile being her last intelligent act.--And so she passed within the veil.
I was able to relate all this from my pulpit the Sabbath after her decease, not merely because the period of the greatest suffering under bereavement had not come, but chiefly because the consolations of the trying scene, and hopes full of immortality, had not lost their new power. I was therefore like those who, on the first Christian Sabbath morning, "departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, and did run to bring his disciples word."
It is intimated above that the greatest suffering at the death of a friend does not occur immediately upon the event. It comes when the world have forgotten that you have cause to weep; for when the eyes are dry, the heart is often bleeding. There are hours,--no,
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