And Emily, dear Emily,
All will be well at last!




ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.


She sleeps the quiet sleep of death and I survive. But for what
purpose? why was not I called first to explore the untried regions of
eternity? 'Tis known only to Him whose mighty arm often spares the
humble flower while the waving trees that stand around it are torn
from their roots by the roaring tempest. She has gone before me, and
yet how long may it be ere I shall follow her? O solemn thought!--well
might it sink deeply into my heart, and taking root there spring forth
yielding fruits of repentance. Soon may Death, the great enemy of
mankind, add one more ghastly victim to the lifeless piles that lie
heaped together in every clime and on every shore; and when my death-
knell
shall sound will it be the signal of a spirit wailing in the regions
of
the lost, or rejoicing in the bright realms of everlasting bliss? It
is
for me, and me alone to decide. Perhaps it is for this that my life
has
been spared--that I might make a firm and decided choice; and shall I
still draw back? shall I still hesitate and remain inactive? No, _no_;
for "now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation."