by Anonymous
CHAPTER VII.
THE GATHERING.
It was thought best to lay Henry's beloved form in the earth on the dayfollowing his death. It was one of those intensely warm, sultry days,August often brings. Not a leaf stirred upon the trees, not a clouddimmed the sky. One by one, neighbors and friends dropped in, withnoiseless step. Hushed voices and stifled sobs alone were heard in thehouse of death. Many, very many had loved Henry, and many looked withtearful eyes on his peaceful form. The life-like glow had passed awayfrom his sweet face, the marks of the destroying angel were more clearlyvisible, but there was a soft repose, still beautiful to look upon,diffused over every feature. Aged men and women who had known him from achild, sobbed as they gazed on one so young, so gifted, snatched awayfrom life. The pastor who had baptized him when an infant, and one fromthe adjoining town were there. Both had known Henry, and both had lovedhim. Both spoke with tearful eyes and quivering lip of his worth andloveliness. Holy words of prayer were spoken,--the bereaved mother andweeping children were commended to God, the only refuge in this hour ofdarkness, and fervent intercessions were offered, united with gratefulthanksgivings for all that had been enjoyed in the past, and for all thecheering hopes which brightened the future. The hymn
"Why should we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms?"
was read and sung.
Once more the children were all together under the roof where they hadoften met; all save the son whose home was now in a sunnier clime. Buthow unlike was this to their last joyful gathering! Hours of rejoicing,and hours of mourning, ye are strangely blended in the experience ofhuman hearts.
The little village burying-ground was not far distant. A grave wasopened there, for him who but one short week ago was as full of life, ofbounding vigor and of high hopes, as the strongest there.
"Oh, had it been but told you then, To mark whose lamp was dim; From out the ranks of these young men Would ye have singled _him_?
"Whose was the sinewy arm that flung Defiance to the ring? Whose shout of victory loudest rung? Yet not for glorying.
"Whose heart in generous thought and deed, No rivalry could brook? And yet distinction claiming not; There lies he,--go and look!
"Tread lightly, comrades! we have laid His dark locks on his brow; Like life, save deeper light and shade,-- We'll not disturb them now!"
Of all who stood by that open grave, none wept so passionately as littleArthur. He could not control his emotions, and it was in vain thatfriends tried to soothe him. Poor child! did a sad presentiment ofcoming evil pass over his soul?
"Slowly and sadly they laid him down," and "slowly and sadly" theyreturned home; that home now so vacant, so desolate! There let us leavethem; sorrowing, but "not sorrowing as those without hope." It is onjust such scenes as these, that the light of Christian Faith shines witha pure and holy radiance, cheering the bereaved heart, and speakingsweet words of reunion, of immortality, of glory "which fadeth notaway."