Surely He hath borne our _griefs_, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.--Isaiah, liii. 3, 4. For the Lord will not cast off for ever: For though He cause _grief_, yet will He have compassion according to the multitude of His mercies. For He doth not afflict willingly, nor _grieve_ the children of men.--Lamentations, iii. 31, 32, 33. For this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God endure _grief_, suffering wrongfully.--I. Peter, ii. 19. When _grief_ that well might humble, swells our pride, And pride increasing, aggravates our _grief_, The tempest must prevail till we are lost. _Lillo._ Every _grief_ we feel Shortens the destined number; every pulse Beats a short moment of the pain away, And the last stroke will come. By swift degrees Time sweeps us off, and soon we shall arrive At life’s sweet period. Celestial point That ends this mortal story. _Watts._ We _grieve_ to think our eyes no more That form, those features loved, shall trace. But sweet it is from memory’s store To call each fondly-cherished grace, And fold them in the heart’s embrace. No bliss ’mid worldly crowds is bred, Like musing on the sainted dead. We _grieve_ to see expired the race They ran, intent on works of love; But sweet to think no mixture base, With which their better nature strove, Shall rear their virtuous deeds above. Sin o’er their soul has lost its hold, And left them with their earthly mould. _Bishop Mant._ This is the curse of time. Alas! In _grief_ I am not all unlearned; Once thro’ mine own doors death did pass-- One went who never hath returned. * * * * * Let _grief_ be her own mistress still, She loveth her own anguish deep, More than much pleasure. Let her will Be done--to weep or not to weep. Words weaker than your _grief_, would make _Grief_ more. ’Twere better I should cease; Altho’ myself could almost take The place of him that sleeps in peace. _Tennyson._