Be our brilliant polar star!
From earth’s storms, and clouds, and darkness,
Lead us to bright realms afar.
To this holy spot we turn,
Let the mem’ry of thy meekness
Teach us, loved one, how to mourn!
I saw, too, the monument which has been recently erected over the grave of Dr. Abeel, the Chinese missionary. I knew and loved him well, and yet my feelings, when I stood beside his grave, had not a tinge of sadness! Indeed, why should they have? He had fought the good fight, he had finished his course, he had kept the faith, and I knew that he was in actual possession of his crown of glory! It was, then, a time and a place for joy and for triumph, and not for mourning and despondency. The Christian hero had gone to his reward, was that a cause for sadness?
I have not emptied my heart of half its tide of feeling, but I must forbear; time would fail me, and perhaps your patience also, were I to attempt it. Have you ever noticed, in your Greenwood rambles, a deeply-shaded spot, most appropriately labelled “Twilight Dell?” ’Tis there I would like to lay my weary head, when the toils and cares of life are over! Next to a grave in the far-distant West, where some of my loved ones sleep, or in my own Southern home, where my Kindred lie, would I prefer one in the beautifully shaded Twilight Dell of Greenwood.
