The gale that fans the peaceful clime
Is life's immortal breath,
Its freshness makes the sons of time
Forget disease and death.
And shall we tread that holy ground,
And breathe that fragrant air;
And view the fields with glory crowned
In cloudless beauty fair?
Look up! look up, to yonder light,
That cheers the desert grey:
It marks the close of toil and night,
The dawn of endless day.
How sweet your choral hymns will blend
With harps of heavenly tone;
When glad you sing your journey's end
Around your Father's throne.
Mary's contributions to "The Philosophy of the Seasons," over the signature of M. L. D., such as "The Rose," "The Bat," "Sabbath Morning," an "Autumnal Sabbath Evening," are simple and elegant, indicating the possession of good sense and a refined imagination. Like her brother Archibald Lundie, who went to the South Sea Islands in order to benefit his health, and to labor in the sublime work of Christian missions, Mary passed away in the morning of her days, but not without leaving a blessed fragrance behind her, which yet lingers, not over Scotland alone, but over the whole Christian world. And well might her stricken yet resigned and hopeful mother say, in the words quoted at the close of her daughter's Memoir:
"I know thou art gone where thy forehead is starred
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul;
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marred,
Nor thy heart be flung back from its gaol:
I know thou hast drank of the Lethe that flows
Through a land where they do not forget;
That sheds over memory only repose;
And takes from it only regret.
"And though like a mourner that sits by a tomb,
I am wrapt in a mantle of care;
Yet the grief of my bosom—oh! call it not gloom—
Is not the black grief of despair.
By sorrow revealed, as the stars are by night,
Far off thy bright vision appears;
And hope like the rainbow, a creature of light,
Is born like the rainbow—in tears."
J. K. Hervey.
The Duncan family to which Mary Lundie, by her marriage with one of the sons, belonged, is one of the most interesting in Scotland. All of its members seem possessed of fine talents, devoted piety, and generous affections. Two of the sons, with the father, were ministers of the established church of Scotland at the time of the secession of the Free Church from that body, and made a sacrifice, for conscience' sake, of agreeable situations and handsome incomes. Without the slightest hesitation, and without a murmur even, they abandoned their beautiful manses, their churches and people, and threw themselves, with their brethren of the Free Church, upon the providence of God, not knowing what might be the issues of that sublime movement. "The Philosophy of the Seasons,"[179] though written mainly by the father, the Rev. Dr. Duncan of Ruthwell, received contributions from all the members of the family, and remains a splendid monument of their talents, piety and mutual affection. It is fast becoming a classic. Filled with information, and imbued with a spirit of fervid piety, and, moreover, written in a lucid, flowing style, it is well fitted at once to instruct and please.
As Dr. Duncan has recently deceased, a brief sketch of his life may not be uninteresting in this connection.