And to the weary, rest.
"Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I'll praise Thee as I ought.
"Till then I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath;
And may the music of Thy name
Refresh my soul in death."
Gazing into that rapt face, so elevated above all the pains and sorrows of earth, the father could not doubt that the prayer in these last lines was answered. The soul was refreshed, invigorated, and made infinitely blessed by the music of that precious name. A prayer rose to Heaven from one hitherto unused to prayer, "Breathe, O Lord, into my soul such love for Thee as may fill my heart with peace and joy when I go down to the dark valley."