One only hope can comfort you in these sad hours, the hope that somewhere in the "many mansions" of our "Father's house," the daughter who loved you with all the sweetness of her early affection loves you still. The shadows of the valley of death cannot eclipse the light of love.
Time, the great healer, will bring balm to your wounded spirit. I have just been reading the poems of Horatius Bonar, and I recall a stanza of his that expresses better than any words of mine could do the calm, divine hope of a reunion of the loved and lost in that fair land that lies beyond the boundaries of time. It runs thus:
"Where the faded flower shall blossom,
Blossom never more to fade;
Where the shaded sky shall brighten,
Brighten never more to shade,
Where the child shall meet her mother
And the mother meet her child;
And dear families be gathered,
That were scattered on the wild——