How many a heart, wrung and
tortured with the anguish of this fearful silence, has throbbed with
strange, vague hopes at the suggestion! When we hear sometimes of
persons of the strongest and clearest minds becoming credulous
votaries of certain spiritualist circles, let us not wonder: if we
inquire, we shall almost always find that the belief has followed some
stroke of death; it is only an indication of the desperation of that
heart-hunger which in part it appeases.
"Ah, _were_ it true! Were it indeed so that the wall between the
spiritual and material is growing thin, and a new dispensation
germinating in which communion with the departed blest shall be among
the privileges and possibilities of this our mortal state! Ah, were it
so that when we go forth weeping in the gray dawn, bearing spices and
odors which we long to pour forth for the beloved dead, we should
indeed find the stone rolled away and an angel sitting on it!
"But for us the stone must be rolled away by an _unquestionable_
angel, whose countenance is as the lightning, who executes no doubtful
juggle by pale moonlight or starlight, but rolls back the stone in
fair, open morning, and sits on it. Then we could bless God for his
mighty gift, and with love, and awe, and reverence take up that
blessed fellowship with another life, and weave it reverently and
trustingly into the web of our daily course.
Pages:
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536