When a beloved fellow-laborer dies at home; when the place of some dear one
is vacated by death; when the hand of labor ceases to move and the heart
of sympathy ceases to beat,--all around are saddened by the event: gloom
covers the weeping church, and all who knew the fallen one bend in tearful
silence over the grave. But when a missionary dies we can form no opinion
of the feelings of those who are left in sorrow. Away from home and all
the endeared scenes of early life, they become more strongly and firmly
attached to each other. Between the members of the little band are formed
the most tender ties, the most hallowed relations; and when _one_ only
departs, all hearts grieve and bleed as if the dearest earthly object had
been removed.

Mrs. Hervey was buried near the scene of her labors--on heathen soil. The
solemn funeral service and the pang of death were calculated to deepen the
impression upon the minds of the converted and unconverted people; and the
hymn, as it sent its mournful echo along the borders of the field of graves
and sounded like the song of an angel amid the homes of the living, turned
many a thought forward to that haven where the saint shall break from the
repose of death, and come forth to the resurrection of the just, a new and
glorified form.

"Why do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
Us but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms."

Did we not have implicit confidence in the ways of God and in his special
providence,--did we not feel that he is too wise to err, too good to
be unkind,--our hearts would often faint as we hear of our devoted