Death.
Thou pale visitant of the spirit land, why dost thou hover ever round
the shades of time, and ever ply thy bark on yonder sluggish stream,
whose oozy waters bear thee on its bosom? Why dost thou ever bear away
a victim that returns not with thee? As we look for thy returning bark
"through the vista, long and dark it comes with thee alone." Thou
mysterious messenger, where dost bear those whom thou dost convey
away?--but hark! that voice! husky, hollow, but impressive, the spirit
shall return unto God who gave it. But now I see thee more distinctly,
thou grisly monster; I know thy form, thou conqueror of conquerors,
and thou king of kings. But yesterday I saw a smiling infant in its
fond mother's arms; a thousand dimpling smiles played around its
beautiful features, and its eyes beamed with brilliancy; thou didst
approach, and lay thy icy hand upon its fluttering pulses, and all
was still. The parted lips had closed with the passing smile yet
upon them, the eye had ceased to roll, that little form was cold
and motionless as the clods of the valley, life had ebbed away, the
mysterious link that bound the soul to the body was broken; the spirit
had departed; many witnessed the expiring struggle, but none saw the
spirit as it took its flight from its clay tenement; yet it had gone
with thee over yon dark stream.
Again I entered the chamber where a father lay, upon whom a numerous
family were dependant. Thou wast there; thy icy breath was upon him;
thy agonizing throes were depicted on his pallid countenance; his
expansive chest heaved laboriously; his shortening breath came up
convulsively, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. He had
been called suddenly--unexpectedly to meet thee. A tearful wife and
children gathered around the bed, formed an interesting group, and
strove in vain to allay the agony of the husband and father. But a
sterner blow, and that wife was a widow, those children fatherless.
Thou hadst taken that father to "that undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveler e'er returns." That weeping wife and those children
"were cast abandoned on the world's wide stage, doomed in scanty
poverty to roam." But still I followed thee, thou fell destroyer of the
human race, determined to portray thy doings.
A gentle mother next received thy visitation, falling a prey to thy
relentless hand. Five darling children shared her maternal love, as
day by day she ministered to their necessities. The rose had long
since faded from her cheek; an unwonted lustre lit up her eye, and her
step became more and more feeble, 'till thou didst summon her away,
leaving a void in the hearts of those children that can never be
filled. Sad, sickening was the sight as I followed in thy train, and
saw father, mother, sister, brother, and all the endearing relations
of life, fall before thy sway. But thou art coeval with the race;
there lives not a man who will not bow before thy sceptre; all must
drink from thy cup. The crowned monarch and the beggar sleep side by
side, and their mingled dust is the sport of the winds of the heavens.
Then may we
"So live, that when our summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chambers in the silent halls of death,
We go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach our graves
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
the shades of time, and ever ply thy bark on yonder sluggish stream,
whose oozy waters bear thee on its bosom? Why dost thou ever bear away
a victim that returns not with thee? As we look for thy returning bark
"through the vista, long and dark it comes with thee alone." Thou
mysterious messenger, where dost bear those whom thou dost convey
away?--but hark! that voice! husky, hollow, but impressive, the spirit
shall return unto God who gave it. But now I see thee more distinctly,
thou grisly monster; I know thy form, thou conqueror of conquerors,
and thou king of kings. But yesterday I saw a smiling infant in its
fond mother's arms; a thousand dimpling smiles played around its
beautiful features, and its eyes beamed with brilliancy; thou didst
approach, and lay thy icy hand upon its fluttering pulses, and all
was still. The parted lips had closed with the passing smile yet
upon them, the eye had ceased to roll, that little form was cold
and motionless as the clods of the valley, life had ebbed away, the
mysterious link that bound the soul to the body was broken; the spirit
had departed; many witnessed the expiring struggle, but none saw the
spirit as it took its flight from its clay tenement; yet it had gone
with thee over yon dark stream.
Again I entered the chamber where a father lay, upon whom a numerous
family were dependant. Thou wast there; thy icy breath was upon him;
thy agonizing throes were depicted on his pallid countenance; his
expansive chest heaved laboriously; his shortening breath came up
convulsively, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. He had
been called suddenly--unexpectedly to meet thee. A tearful wife and
children gathered around the bed, formed an interesting group, and
strove in vain to allay the agony of the husband and father. But a
sterner blow, and that wife was a widow, those children fatherless.
Thou hadst taken that father to "that undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveler e'er returns." That weeping wife and those children
"were cast abandoned on the world's wide stage, doomed in scanty
poverty to roam." But still I followed thee, thou fell destroyer of the
human race, determined to portray thy doings.
A gentle mother next received thy visitation, falling a prey to thy
relentless hand. Five darling children shared her maternal love, as
day by day she ministered to their necessities. The rose had long
since faded from her cheek; an unwonted lustre lit up her eye, and her
step became more and more feeble, 'till thou didst summon her away,
leaving a void in the hearts of those children that can never be
filled. Sad, sickening was the sight as I followed in thy train, and
saw father, mother, sister, brother, and all the endearing relations
of life, fall before thy sway. But thou art coeval with the race;
there lives not a man who will not bow before thy sceptre; all must
drink from thy cup. The crowned monarch and the beggar sleep side by
side, and their mingled dust is the sport of the winds of the heavens.
Then may we
"So live, that when our summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chambers in the silent halls of death,
We go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach our graves
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
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