I cannot describe the state of my own mind as peculiarly connected with this solemn singing. I was reminded of older times and ancient piety. I wished the practice more frequent. It seems well calculated to excite and cherish devotion and religious affections.
Music, when judiciously brought into the service of religion, is one of the most delightful, and not least efficacious means of grace. I pretend not too minutely to conjecture as to the actual nature of those pleasures which, after the resurrection, the re-united body and soul will enjoy in
heaven; but I can hardly persuade myself that melody and harmony will be wanting, when even the sense of hearing shall itself be glorified.
We at length arrived at the church. Looking upwards as I drew near the church, I observed a dial on the wall. The sun’s declining rays directed the shadow to the evening hour. As I passed underneath this simple but solemn monitor, I was reminded of the lapse of time, the uncertainty of life, and sure approach of eternity. I thought with David, “We are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fathers; our days on earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding.”
“Lord, so teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
The service was heard with deep and affectionate attention. When we came to the grave, the hymn which Elizabeth had selected was sung. All was devout, simple, animating. We committed our dear sister’s body to the earth, in full hope of a joyful resurrection from the dead.
Thus was the veil of separation drawn for a season. She is departed, and no more seen. But she will be seen on the right hand of her Redeemer at the last day, and will again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and monument of mercy.
My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there likewise? Are we “clothed with humility,” and arrayed in the wedding garment of a redeemer’s righteousness? Are we turned from idols to serve the living God? Are we sensible of our own emptiness, and therefore flying to a Saviour’s fulness to obtain grace and strength? Do we indeed live in Christ, and on him, and by him, and with him? Is he our all in all? Are we “lost, and found?” “dead, and alive again?”
My poor reader, the Dairyman’s daughter was a poor girl, and the child of a poor man. Herein thou resemblest her: but dost thou resemble her as she resembled Christ? Art thou made rich by faith? Hast thou a crown laid up for thee? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches? If not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly for like precious faith.
But if, through grace, thou dost love and serve the Redeemer that saved the Dairyman’s daughter, grace, peace, and mercy be with thee! The lines are fallen unto thee in pleasant places: thou hast a goodly heritage. Press forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possessing thy soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been with me to the grave of a departed believer. Now “go thy way till the end be; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.”