headstones, how forcibly do we feel "one generation passeth away and
another generation cometh." Many of the monuments have ceased to be a
memorial; having crumbled away, and the inscriptions become entirely
obliterated by the thick covering of green moss that has gathered upon
them. Is not this a lesson that is calculated to humble the pride of
man? But we will pause by the graves of the dear uncle and aunt, whose
remains we saw deposited here many years ago, when our young footsteps
bounded with all the elasticity of childhood. But though sweeping
years have borne away the halcyon days of childhood, the golden days
of youth, and the sobered and subdued period of middle life, and
our sun has passed its meridian and is verging rapidly towards
its setting, still this grief comes back again with all its first
freshness. Here for the first time these eyes looked into an
untenanted grave; for the first time saw the coffin let down into the
"dark and narrow house," and heard the hollow sound as the earth fell
upon it--and deep was the impression that was made upon the childish
memory, and so faithful is she to her trust that at this moment, when
standing upon this spot, she brings it back again, untarnished by the
long years that have passed away. The little heaped up mound that
covered their remains has sunk to a level with its kindred dust,
and the inscriptions upon the headstones, though legible, are much
defaced. Can it be that here are the dear forms whose voices I heard,
upon whose knees I sat, and who led me by the hand, day after day?
Even so. Were it not for revelation, "that light and immortality are
brought to light" by the gospel, how dark would be the grave; who
could fathom its mysterious confines, or penetrate its darkness? But
the Saviour has shed a radiance around it, and assured us "the graves
shall give up their dead; that we shall all come forth and be judged
according to the deeds done in the body." Happy they, who learn
this most important lesson, and live up to the great principles it